The Princess and the Prophecy
by Grace3
Summary: Char and Ella could not have known that their only daughter would have such a strange destiny... A lost princess, a mysterious youth, a mad fairy, a fumbling villain - and a gift that could change everything.
1. Prologue

_**I was looking at my book collection one day, spied my tattered copy of Ella Enchanted on the shelf, and this idea fell into my head literally seconds after that. Oh man, am I having fun writing this. (That is exactly what this fic is, my little happy place where I can re-visit one of my favorite childhood books.)  
_

_It has been years since I've checked out any EE fic, but I'm sure there are probably similar stories out there. That said, I hope I can throw in some twists that are a bit original._

_Anyway, everything belongs to Gail Carson Levine, except for what I made up, of course. (And that is the first and last time that I will say that.)_

_Thanks for reading!**_

* * *

**THE PRINCESS AND THE PROPHECY**

By Grace3

* * *

**1 - PROLOGUE**

_"Born on the last of the 499th,_

_she enters a golden era ending, _

_a black one beginning._

_Her father is the highest in the land,_

_fair and just._

_The tenth in her line,_

_the potential of her forebears will be realized in her._

_The secret she keeps is hidden behind_

_a strange and unique gaze,_

_the consequence of a distinct lineage._

_A shadow falls across her path;_

_an imposter, a usurper enters the story,_

_who will sit on a throne of lies._

_She will lose everything that she once knew._

_She will forget._

_Her future intertwines with a wanderer,_

_for they will share a similar fate, should they fail._

_Both born of noble lines;_

_both will lose everything,_

_which, together, they may regain._

_A darker figure yet looms over them both;_

_this person is beyond my sight._

_Her gift will guide her, hinder her, help her,_

_as she makes what is wrong right again,_

_as she restores her country,_

_as she finds her true place."_

- Gnomic prophecy

This prophecy, made almost a hundred years before it came true, originated in a kingdom of a faraway country over the mountains and across a wide river from the land of Kyrria, where the main thread of this story will begin.

It was made by a gnome visiting the royalty of this far-off kingdom. This gnome was renowned for her ability to see the future, which was a gift that many gnomes possessed; however, few had the clarity and ability of this certain gnome, who was wizened with age. She had been the special guest of many kings, and was always treated with honor.

The king of this country was holding court, and a large number of people were in the great hall of the castle, waiting to speak with him. As her vision of the future overtook her, the old gnome woman spoke it out loud, and soon everyone in the room was hushed, straining to hear her words. Court scribes became frantic, when they realized what was happening, in rushing to procure parchment and ink in order to copy the lines down for posterity. (This was a country that set great store by history, and court scribes were present at every event, big or small.) Everyone in the room realized, with the gravity of her words, that this wasn't some random fortune, but a prophecy of great import.

A bevy of people heard this prophecy, each of them different in status and situation. They included, along with many peasants and servants, the following:

The court jester.

Three court scribes, who each copied it down differently. Only one of them got it right, however, and that version just so happens to be the one that was copied into the history books.

A merchant from a neighboring country, selling various pottery.

Two fairies: one very silly and one very serious.

The queen and her two young sons.

Last but not least, the king also heard this prophecy. He, of course, was sitting right next to the gnome woman as she spoke, and he never forgot that strange day at court, or the words that she had uttered.

In this tiny country over the mountains, called Haddora, everyone who heard this prophecy knew, deep down, that someday it would come true.

It was only a matter of _when_.


	2. A Princess

**2 - A PRINCESS**

On the eve of its 500th anniversary, the entire country of Kyrria held its collective breath as they waited for news of the birth.

Eleanor, King Charmont's wife, had been in labor for almost two days. The country could not have imagined the scene in the birthing room: the mother wan with exhaustion, her hair damp and her skin chalky, the royal cook (and secret fairy godmother) never leaving her side, wiping her brow with a cool cloth and whispering little words of encouragement.

They never would have recognized this weak, frail Eleanor, who they knew and loved as Queen Ella - lovely and kind, humor in her countenance, a spark always in her eyes.

Her title was somewhat of a pet name from the people, not at all official. At the time of her marriage to the king, she had boldly refused to be referred to as a princess, and after the coronation, flatly declined to answer to any phrase that included the word "Queen." This had not stopped anyone from lavishing both titles upon her, of course, so it hadn't been long before she stopped correcting them and accepted her informal titles with good grace - and maybe a little twitch at the corner of her mouth and a wry smile thrown at her husband, who had been ordered never to refer to her as anything higher than "Court Linguist."

Even during important, dull events of state, her spirit could not be dampened. During Char's coronation, she had stumbled over the hem of her own dress. It was ridiculously long, in keeping with the current fashion, and though Ella had protested, the dressmaker had insisted. Ironically, tripping over the abundance of cloth caused her to pitch forward, knocking into the High Chancellor, whose spectacles went flying off his nose. They soared high overhead, as if in slow-motion, and landed in someone's wine goblet with a satisfactory _plop_. Her face bright red, Ella had murmured profuse apologies to the Chancellor, but she had just happened to glace over his shoulder, only to glimpse Char's face. He was trying in vain to hold back his laughter, and he looked so comical that Ella burst out laughing herself. This immediately set both royals into a fresh round of hysterics. In turn, this set off the courtiers and the citizens, who had been torn between tensely waiting for a reaction from any of the royalty and stifling their own laughter out of respect.

Indeed, their queen was forever laughing, and much of the time at herself and her own innate clumsiness, despite being properly finished. That was beside the point, however. She was also kind and good, and it was obvious how deeply in love the king was with her, as she was with him. In fact, their love story had become widely known throughout the kingdom, and was told and retold at many firesides. (Someday it would even become the stuff of fairy tales, though it was as true a tale as any that had ever been told.)

By contrast, the scene in the small birthing room was the opposite of a fairy tale; rather, it had the makings of a tragedy. To see Ella struggling to bring her fifth child into the world, she herself almost on the brink of leaving it, that famous spark so greatly dimmed, would have shocked and saddened the kingdom.

Needless to say, Char was wild with worry. In fact, he had been at her side every hour, not even leaving to rest himself, until Mandy finally kicked him out. Neither parent had slept, and Ella was failing despite the fight in her.

Mandy saw at last that she would have to intervene. She had tried to help as much as she could without magic, but it was not enough, and soon it would be too late. Memories of Ella's mother and namesake flitted through her mind; she knew she could not let herself hesitate. Lady Eleanor's death hadn't been her fault, but she felt partially responsible anyway. If only she had been more vigilant, maybe things would have turned out very differently. And, if this motivation wasn't enough, besides Char there were four young boys, and they needed their mother.

"Well, love, we're in a pickle now, aren't we?" Mandy murmured, smoothing back the damp stray hairs from Ella's brow. Ella opened her eyes, her long lashes fluttering.

"Mmmmm?" Ella muttered, her voice barely audible. The effort it took for her to speak made Mandy's heart give a little squeeze of panic, but she forced herself to focus.

"Nothing, my dear. I'm just going to drop by the kitchens and get you something to perk up your energy a little. This baby of yours seems to be quite stubborn!"

Ella lifted the corner of her mouth in a shadow of a smile, but her eyes were full of love for her unborn baby. "Little stubborn . . . "

"Don't you worry. We'll all meet Stubborn soon enough. Just hold on a bit longer; you'll see."

Ella sighed and closed her eyes. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

* * *

Char lifted his head swiftly as a shadow passed by him. He was just in time to catch Mandy disappearing through the door that led to the stairs, and Nancy, the head servant, slipping into Ella's room. He caught the first snatches of a soft wail before the door shut. Another contraction.  
He jumped up, wiping his hand over his face in one quick motion. He froze for a second, torn between wanting to sneak back into the birthing room and wanting to follow Mandy. His better judgment told him that he probably should not cross Mandy, so he forced himself to move deliberately toward the stairs. His heart, meanwhile, was back in the small room with his wife.

He thought he knew where Mandy would go, and he followed his instinct. Sure enough, he found her bustling around in her special pantry, gathering an interesting array of ingredients. He stood silently in the doorway, waiting for her to acknowledge him. She ignored him and brushed past him with her arms full, moving to the larger kitchen. He followed, curious, but also more worried than before.

"Small magic, Mandy?" he asked, a crease forming between his eyebrows.

"What else?" she quipped, a little impatiently.

Mandy had never interfered with any of the other births.

"What is it?" His voice wavered a little.

Mandy finally looked at him, square in the eyes. She sighed at his expression, and relaxed her shoulders.  
"Just a little something that I'll put in her hot tea. She needs more energy, and once she has it I think things will move along."

She must have seen the desperation in his expression, which he had been trying to hide. Mandy never missed much. Her voice grew warmer.  
"Don't worry, dear. Things will turn out all right, for her and the child. It's not so dire that small magic won't help." She gave him a quick, reassuring smile, and then turned back to her work.

Char wilted against the door frame, resting his forehead against the wood. He breathed in and out, in and out. He could imagine the worst thing in the world that could possibly happen to him, and he had been afraid, ever since yesterday, when the child simply would not come, that it was going to come true.

He forced the thought out of his mind. Ella would not die. He wouldn't let her. If she didn't have strength left, _he_ would be her strength.

Mandy went by him again, this time bearing a tray laden with a mug of something hot and steaming, smelling faintly of peppermint. He straightened up, took another deep lungful of air, and then was hot on her heels.

* * *

He caught up to her just as she was going to enter the birthing room. He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Wait," he said. She turned, facing him. He pleaded with her with his eyes.

She frowned at him for a second, and then outright glared.  
"If you get in my way at _all_, out you go. Lady needs to focus, and I can't have you distracting her. If you're in there with her, you're to be as silent as the grave, understand?"

"Thank you, Mandy. I just need to be near her. I-"

She cut him off. "I know how it is with you two; _however_, all you'll be doing is giving _silent_ moral support." Her voice went even lower, into what he thought of as her 'I-mean-business' tone. She paused for emphasis.

"I don't care that you're the highest law of the land. _I'm in charge_."

With that, she disappeared into the room, and Char was just able to slip inside before she snapped the door shut.

* * *

The mug of Mandy's concoction, whatever it had been, sat empty on the bedside table. Char was kneeling at the side of the narrow bed, gripping Ella's hand. He had not said a word since entering the room. He focused entirely on Ella, mentally sending her every ounce of energy he possessed. Every time she squeezed his hand, he squeezed back harder.

Mandy was shouting at Ella, kneeling under a pile of sheets at the end of the bed. Nancy was racing around, giving Mandy clean cloths as she needed them and preparing everything else.

"Push, Lady, _push_! I know you have it in you-"

"Deep breaths. Now push again. Harder!"

"One more time, now. _Give it everything you've got_! PUSH!"

Ella pushed, her hair damp with sweat, her face determined through her exhaustion.

"Here she comes!"

For the first time, Char's head snapped up. He stared at Mandy. _She?_

"Just a little more, a little more, a little more. . . HERE SHE IS!"

Ella collapsed, her chest heaving. "Char, Char. . . wha . . . what . . . ?" She panted, totally spent.

Char, still gripping Ella's hand, was following Mandy everywhere with his eyes. She snipped the umbilical cord with a matter-of-fact air, and then handed the little red, screaming baby to Nancy, who went to work at once. Before Char knew it, Nancy was approaching the bed, a little bundle in her arms.

He hadn't even noticed that the screaming had stopped. Finally, he became aware of Ella tugging feebly at his hand. He turned, took one look at her face, and without hesitating, climbed onto the edge of the narrow bed, wrapping his arms around her. He buried his face in her hair, a sob escaping him.

Nancy and Mandy looked at each other, and then back at the royal couple. Ella's eyes were starting to brim over as she gently stroked Char's curls. Nancy timidly approached the other side of the bed, holding out the bundle to Ella.

Ella held out one arm, smiling through her tears. Her other thin arm was still wrapped around Char's large shoulders. She looked tiny and wan, but a glowing happiness was spreading over her face. Nancy stepped closer and carefully tucked the bundle into the crook of Ella's free arm. Char quieted, and then sat up, wiping his face and blowing his nose on his shirt sleeve. Mandy and Nancy took the opportunity to tip-toe out of the room, softly shutting the door behind them.

Meanwhile, the king and queen of Kyrria were leaning together, unfolding the soft swaddling cloth from around their daughter's face. The baby blinked and opened her eyes.

It was the eve of the country's 500th anniversary. After four princes of Kyrria, here, joyously, was a princess.


	3. The Anniversary

**3 - THE ANNIVERSARY**

Ella lay in her bed resting, the bassinet close by. She could see the little pink bundle and hear the soft sounds of the sleeping baby, which reassured her. She knew she should also get some sleep, but she felt restless. She dwelled on her other children, the boys. She longed to see them, and she was anxious for them to meet their new sister. Mandy, on the other hand, had other ideas. She had firmly denied anyone access to Ella or the baby, except for Char and the occasional visit from Nancy for necessity's sake. Rest, she had said, was of the utmost importance.

Ella grudgingly accepted the fact that, yes, it had been an incredibly hard labor, and right now, so soon after the birth, it was probably best not to be disturbed.

Still. She wanted her boys.

Little Davy in particular had been anxious about the expected sibling. He had voiced many of his worries to Ella during their little confidences, when he would snuggle up against her side (his wont was to crawl into her lap, but her belly had simply become too round to allow any room for a squirmy three-year-old) and ask her question after question in his high voice.

"Mother, when is the baby coming out?"

"When can I play with the baby?"

"Does the baby like tin soldiers?"

"Why does Father rub your belly? Is the baby a genie?"

"Mooootheeeeer! Jerry says the baby's a _giiiirl!_" During _that _particular instance, Davy had wailed and wailed and simply could not be consoled.

"David. You know that girls are just as nice to play with as boys. What about your friend, Alison? You like her, and she's a girl, right?"

"But she has a blue_ wagon_!" Somehow, in the mind of a toddler, ownership of a shiny blue wagon negated the fact that one was an icky, cootie-bearing female.

Ella was interrupted from these thoughts by a light tap on her door.

"Yes? Come in!"

Nancy poked her head in, looking a little flustered.

"My lady, I found some trespassers on my way here. I know Mandy said no visitors, shall I - ?"

A chorus of voices echoing from the hallway cut her off.

"Is Mother in there? Let me see her!"

"Is Mother ever gonna come out? Is she hiding from us?"

"Mootheeeeer! Wheeeere aaaaare yoooooou?"

Nancy's head disappeared; Ella could hear her whispering sternly.

"Now, you behave! That means you, Henry! Not one more word, Jerrold! Your mother has had a _very hard time _delivering your sister, and she needs rest! Indeed, how did you sneak past Arieda? Didn't any of the servants see you?"

Ella grimaced. Poor Arieda. Her dearest friend had come all the way from Ayortha to help the family while Ella was indisposed, but the four princes had proved to be a little much for her. Arieda herself had a daughter, but Araina was a sweet, well-behaved child, about a year younger than David. Arieda wasn't used to a gaggle of rowdy little boys.

One of them was whispering loudly to Nancy. Ella strained to hear what was being said.

". . . and Arieda fell asleep, and Davy wanted to know where Mother was, and he started crying, and we wanted to know, too, so we went on a mission to find her!"

Ella smiled. Jerry, her little leader.

"Father did say we could see her today, didn't he?" said a solemn voice, which she knew could only be Gareth.

"Yes, my dears, but _later_. Today is the anniversary, remember? Your mother and father both have to make an appearance, and your sister is to be presented to the people. You must understand, your mother just gave birth. She needs plenty of rest so she can have enough strength for all of that other silly business."

Jerry started, "Nancy, we know, we just - "

"Nancy?" Ella called out. She had made up her mind. One little visit would do no one any harm. Their small voices right outside her door, so eager to see her, made her heart yearn for them all the more.

Nancy poked her head back through the doorway, looking apologetic. Her face was slightly strained, as she was also apparently in a struggle to keep the door closed. Ella could hear the frantic whispers and jostling of four little boys trying to enter her chamber. She smiled wider.

"Let them in. Just for a little while."

At that, Nancy was unceremoniously shoved aside, and the boys tumbled into the room. As they surrounded Ella's bed and made to accost her with hugs, Nancy came to her senses just in time.

"BOYS."

They froze.

"_Be careful_."

They looked collectively at their mother, quite warily. David's lower lip began to tremble. Gareth frowned. Henry inched forward, looking sly, and Jerry huffed in annoyance.

Ella opened her arms to them.

"Do be careful, now, but please come here. I've missed you so."

Soon, all of her children were with her on her bed, after Nancy had placed the sleeping baby in Ella's arms. That was how Char found them when he entered the room.

"Ella, Arieda seems to have lost - Oh." He threw a questioning glance her way. She looked back at him rather sheepishly. After a second, he shrugged and smiled at her indulgently.

Mandy chose that precise moment to bustle into the room.

"Is Lady sleeping? I don't want to wake her, I - "

She stopped dead in her tracks, surveying the scene. Char had made his way to the bed and was taking the baby from Ella. Davy was seated comfortably against the pillow beside his mother with her arm snug around him, and Henry had his curly head in her lap. Jerry sat cross-legged at her feet, while Gareth had moved to his father's side to peer at his sister. All of them froze yet again, as if they had been caught red-handed.

Mandy threw up her hands, turned on her heel, and left the room. As she moved farther away, down the hall, they could hear her angry voice echoing back at them. "That room had better be clear in FIVE MINUTES . . . or else!"

It was silent for an entire minute. Char cleared his throat loudly. "Jerry, would you like to hold Nora? We're still safe for five minutes, you know."

Jerry smiled and shyly held out his arms.

"Nora?" said Gareth. "That's nice."

"It's short for 'Eleanor,' silly. Just like your Mother."

Davy looked troubled. "But did you ask Mother if she wanted to share her name?"

Ella rubbed his arm, soothing. "Don't worry, darling. I'm just fine with sharing."

She turned her head just in time to watch, with a mix of motherly pride and satisfaction, as Char placed the 10th in the line of Eleanor women into her eldest son's waiting arms.

* * *

After neglecting his duties completely for two entire days while Ella was in labor, Char had a bit of catching up to do. He had yet to attend a postponed meeting with various officials of state, last-minute decisions regarding the celebration for the 500th anniversary of the country needed his approval, and the Duke of Lynn, Lord Algernon, was still waiting to discuss some kind of squabble over the eastern border.

To be honest, Char couldn't wholly attend to what he was doing, as his mind was far away with his young wife and their brood. He lingered on Nora. She was a fine girl, a beautiful baby. With not a small amount of pride, he reckoned she would be like her mother in looks - it was already obvious.

A princess was quite an affair. After the birth of David, he and Ella had been sure that they would never have a daughter. Now their family was complete. And, on top of that, Ella was mending well and making gains in strength. Mandy thought she would be back to her old self in no time.

Soon his mind inevitably led him back in the direction of duty. A perfunctory appearance by the queen and princess at the anniversary celebration was necessary, he allowed. The people deserved that, at least. He would give them a glimpse of his healthy new daughter, and that would be that. He knew the populace would appreciate this gesture. Respect for the royal family ran deep, and it had always been thoughtfulness towards them, as he had learned from his father, that helped to keep it that way. The fact that the presentation would be exceedingly brief, due to his wife's current fragile condition, was no matter. Anyway, the people were more concerned with the revelry in the streets, which had been going on since dawn.

At least, most of them were.

As Char planned for the presentation of his daughter to the people of Kyrria, he could not have known that one person in particular was far more interested in this single event than anyone else. In fact, this person (or, more specifically, _he_) suspected something about the baby girl that neither Char, nor Ella, nor even Mandy, possessor of magic, could ever have fathomed, so soon after her birth.

This person had been given the information by an informer. He didn't know why, he didn't know _how_ she knew, but he took it.

He would use it.

It all hung on viewing the child up close. Normally, this would not have been allowed until she was of age and formally presented to the court, but this was a special case. This royal child, born practically on the very day of the country's anniversary of five centuries, would not only be presented to the common people, as was customary just after birth; she would also be presented to the nobility, who would be allowed to offer gifts and good wishes to her parents. The coincidence of the princess's birth and the event of the 500th anniversary was a rarity, and was treated as such.

The chance to see the baby up close and validate his suspicions was too good to be true.

He thought of nothing else.

* * *

Red banners were waving in a warm spring breeze. In Frell's main square, from which the castle could be seen on a slow rise just beyond, people from all over Kyrria were gathered. Some waved bright red flags, others held pinwheels, which were spinning merrily in the wind. Young children were perched high on the shoulders of their parents, and ambitious youths were scaling the sides of small shops and carts to get a better view of the main spectacle.

On a raised platform, two thrones sat, simple and plain, but made stately by the people they bore: the king and queen of Kyrria: Charmont and Eleanor. Above them hung the royal crest in its blaze of glory, and royal guards lined up on either side of the monarchs, bearing full armor and red livery. At the queen's right hand, flanked by two guards, was a cradle.

The royal couple sat straight and elegant, the king holding the queen's hand as they smiled and nodded at their public.

They never failed to capture the admiration of any who looked upon them. The king, still youthful, still handsome, had the same open, friendly countenance, the same boyish charm as he had possessed ten years ago, when he had married Queen Ella. Many were surprised, upon meeting him face-to-face, by the spray of freckles across his nose and his unruly curls. He certainly did not look the part of a stately, sedate king.

Ella, on the other hand, was always comely, but when wearing an elegant gown with her hair dressed to best advantage, she was simply a glowing beauty. Her shining dark hair fell in a thick cable down her back, and her cheeks were flushed with happiness. Her eyes, greener than grass, seemed to sparkle as she turned her head to smile at her husband. Together, they were beyond enigmatic.

The High Chancellor stepped forward as a trumpet blared. The crowd fell mostly silent, but a humming sort of murmur lingered as they waited in anticipation.

Chancellor Thomas didn't disappoint expectations. He managed to make what must have been his thousandth dull, boring speech about allegiance to the crown, pride and honor, and serving one's country as a dutiful citizen. He only squeezed in mentioning the princess in one sentence. It was difficult to guess how Char and Ella managed to stay erect and smiling during the entire tedious song-and-dance, especially considering Ella's exhaustion. It was safe to say that she never would have been able to hide it when she was still new to court. Now she had a few years behind her, not to mention lessons from the late Queen Daria, herself.

The absence of Char's parents, as well as Ella's father, Sir Peter, was keenly felt, but in different ways. King Jerrold had died from a wasting illness a few years ago, and Daria had not lasted much longer, as it often goes with those who are married for scores of years and are almost like one entity. Sir Peter, on the other hand, was very much alive, but he had not bothered to see his daughter, nor her family, in seven years. Traveling and adding to his fortune were his excuses, and though Ella brushed it off, Char could not forgive so easily.

Ella's step-family, including Olive's new husband, were probably somewhere in the throng of people, but Char doubted that they wished he or Ella well. This was the most he thought about them at all, which they firmly deserved.

The only other family member who was noticeably absent was Char's sister, Cecilia, who was married to a prince of a far-off kingdom. She, however, had sent a novel-length letter expressing her 'deepest and saddest regrets' at not being able to return to Kyrria to be with her 'dearest, sweetest sister' for the birth.

After what seemed like an age, the Chancellor finally stepped back as another trumpet sounded. Char rose from his seat, letting persons missed and missing drop from his mind.

"Good people!" he started, his voice ringing clear as a bell over the square. "We are proud and happy to be celebrating such an auspicious occasion this day: Kyrria's 500th anniversary!" At this, the crowd broke into shouts and cheers. He waited patiently, then continued when it quieted again.

His speech was much more succinct than the Chancellor's, and he spoke eloquently about the country's long history - its victories as well as its losses. Having been Kyrria's king for only three short years, he also spoke feelingly about his hopes for the future, and the legacy left behind by his father, King Jerrold, as well as his father's father, his father's father, and so on. He renewed his oath to do right by his people and the crown.

"May the peace and prosperity we now enjoy continue for another five centuries!" The crowd erupted again, and whistles and shouts of "Long live the king and queen!" and "Long live Kyrria!" rang out all over the square.

Char held up one hand for silence, smiling broadly. "And now, it is with great pride and honor that I share with all of you, my good people, another joy that has been bestowed upon myself and Ella, my wife and Court Linguist." No one but the people nearest to him could see the swift wink he threw her way, and her even swifter response of pursing her lips to stifle her laughter.

He gently helped her to her feet, and together they stepped next to the cradle. Ella stooped over, lifting the little bundle.

The people strained to get a better look. Those who had the best view smiled at the lovely picture the three of them made.

As another trumpet blared, the High Chancellor stepped forward again, officially presenting the new daughter of the king and queen, Princess Eleanor Rosalyn, to the citizens of Kyrria. The crowd clapped and cheered even louder than before.

Then the nobles began approaching. They formed a long receiving line, and the king and queen graciously acknowledged them. Barons and baronesses, dukes and duchesses, earls, knights, ladies and lords - all came forward to pay their respects.

Ella patiently held Nora in one arm, holding her other hand out for the nobles to bow over. Some politely asked and were thus allowed to touch a finger to Norah's dark wispy hair, or to gently grasp her little hand. Nora, for her part, was very calm. She simply stared out at her admirers, blinking her large eyes and waving her fists.

The line seemed endless, and Char eventually had to stand closer to Ella, who was still in a delicate condition so soon after her hard labor. He subtly supported her with a strong arm behind her lower back. Some of the visitors got a little too grabby, and he had to gracefully steer their attention away from the baby and move them along. One Lady in particular (who reminded Ella of a certain infamous Dame) practically tried to grab Nora out of Ella's arms, much to the alarm of both parents and the guards.

"Ooh, what a sweet little baby she is! A precious little pudding-pie! Oh, I could eat her up, I simply could!" Her arms, encased by ballooning sleeves of the most ridiculous shade of orange, shot out toward the baby.

One of the guards happened to be a little more on top of this situation than Char, and his foot darted out at the exact right moment. The Lady tripped over the unexpected impediment and stumbled to the left. Her arms windmilled in an attempted to keep her body in an upright position, which was a more difficult feat than their usual employment of grabbing unsuspecting babies.

After this stunt, Char was on high alert.

Despite this, he had no idea that the person he should have been watching out for was the one he never suspected.

After a few more polite encounters, the Duke of Lynn approached.

"Cousin," Char greeted, bowing.

"Your Majesties." The duke bowed very low over Ella's hand, even going so far as kissing it. She raised one eyebrow at Char as the duke remained bent over her hand. Eventually, she had to gently but firmly pull it away, and Char took possession of it immediately, squeezing it reassuringly and tucking it into the crook of his arm.

"What a delight, simply a delight." The duke peered into the bundle with unusual interest. "Her eyes - What a lovely shade of violet! Quite peculiar, I say." His fingers reached out, and he touched one of the ribbons on Nora's frilly dress.

Ella frowned. For a second, she thought she had seen an odd glint in the duke's eyes . . .

She shook her head, quickly composing her face. _My motherly instincts are getting ahead of me again_, she thought to herself wryly. Still, she felt uneasy, though her tone was nothing but affable when she replied, explaining. "We believe that they'll change color as she gets older, Lord Algernon. Babies are usually born with blue eyes, you know. Nora's just seem to be slightly more violet-blue than normal."

"Ah, yes, yes. Of course. Still, most enchanting, I say. She'll be quite the heart-breaker. That is, she is going to have your looks, my lady, if I may be so bold." The duke looked pointedly at Ella, his eyes over-bright.

"Oh, you flatter me, Lord Algernon, but if Nora _is_ a pretty baby, it probably has more to do with her grandmother than with me," Ella deferred.

Char frowned slightly at the duke but said nothing. Lord Algernon fixed his attention back on the baby. The king obviously saw an opportunity to let his wife know that he disagreed with her, as he pulled Ella minutely closer to his side, gently squeezing her waist. She blushed despite herself. He seemed to sense this and looked down at her; she met his gaze. Momentarily, they both forgot where they were.

What they both missed was the duke's strange expression when he thought they weren't paying attention. In that tiny increment of time, his mask slipped. His gaze latched onto the baby; he was entranced. His face contorted into something akin to a horrid mixture of pure delight and pure greedy fervor. Whatever it was he saw in Nora was something that pleased him very, very much.

Char and Ella came back to themselves. Lord Algernon just barely managed to re-arrange his features into polite cordiality. He took his leave, giving them his best wishes for their health and happiness.

When the duke moved on, several yards away from the spectacle and celebration, a guard glanced at him and then did a double-take. After that, the guard suspiciously watched Algernon like a hawk as he leisurely traipsed back through the crowd, looking calm and unaffected. The guard's eyes did not leave Algernon until the duke disappeared into a coach.

The guard could have sworn that, for an instant, he had seen the duke smiling to himself in what could only be described as gleeful malice after he had taken leave of the royal family. A little white ribbon had been dangling from his fingers.

* * *

_**A few fun facts: _

_Remember in the book when Char commented on a particular tombstone, "Cousin of mine. Never liked him." when he and Ella were in the graveyard? That person was Algernon's brother._

_Henry and Gareth are twins, but Henry is two minutes older._

_I thought I made it pretty obvious, but if not, Jerry was named for the late King Jerrold.**_


	4. Plots, Plans, and Mad Fairies

**4 ~ PLOTS, PLANS, AND MAD FAIRIES**

Lord Algernon paced back and forth before the hearth in his study, muttering to himself.

It was too much. Even before, the king had seemed to have everything in the world that he, Lord Algernon, desired... and then, _and then_, yet another egg in Char's basket, another feather in his cap, another four-leaf clover. After four perfectly healthy, respectable boys, he was given a daughter. It was too much. Char was already king. He already had the love of a clever, lovely, devoted woman. He already had an heir. And now, to set it all off in the most revoltingly perfect way, he had a daughter as well, one of the sweetest babies that Lord Algernon had ever laid eyes on.

He wanted to smash something. He wanted to kick something. It was unjust; it wasn't right. Algernon deserved more. Algernon deserved better.

Or so he told himself.

He ground his teeth. He gnashed his lips together. His hands tore through his hair, practically ripping it from the roots. Jealousy had always been his weakness.

Ever since they were boys, cousin Charmont, perfect Charmont, the picture of affability, friendliness and kindness, respected and admired, loved and adored, had been his constant usurper. Everything he ever did or tried to do, Char did better.

Maidens fawned over him, though he took no notice. Algernon had tried to gain their admiration, but he was always passed over for Char, who never wanted the attention but received all of it anyway.

In the practice yard, with sword or shield or bow, Char always out-shot him, out-maneuvered him, or prevailed in their many one-on-one combats.

Char had always been a foot taller and broad-shouldered, with nimble fingers (good for tying knots, playing instruments, and carving wood) and a grace to his movements. Whether dancing, fencing, or horse-riding, he carried himself nobly.

Algernon had been short and skinny, with gangly limbs. He had long since grown taller, and it helped to even things out, but he was still shorter than he would have liked, thin as a knife-edge, and all told, rather weedy and bony. Mirrors showed him that he was handsome enough (the mustache and beard gave him a more distinguished air, certainly), but he would never have that kingly stature.

He did not possess many special talents, either. Most horses seemed to have some kind of vendetta against him, attempting to buck and throw him off the saddle as soon as he gained a seat. He was clumsy with a sword and even clumsier at dancing. Somehow, he always managed to trod on delicate feet or take a step out of turn. He had no talent for music and was not artistic.

He had sniveled and whined and complained to himself that it wasn't fair; life wasn't fair. He simply couldn't get past his jealousy of perfect Prince Charmont, so dashing and charming, even his name implied it.

Char seemed to luck out in life, time after time. He won Ella of Frell. Sooner than anyone could have anticipated, he was crowned king after his father's death. Ella bore son after son, and their happiness seemed complete. . .

And Algernon's jealousy turned into something far more horrible and sinister. It grew inside of him, eating away at his heart, mangling it and disfiguring it. It became a monstrous thing, this jealousy.

It turned into pure hatred.

He began to plot.

He wanted Char to be the one who was jealous. He wanted Char to want what _he_ had, what _he_ possessed. He wanted to feel superior, ultimately and truly superior. . . because he had been all along, hadn't he?

Lord Algernon always had felt that he was better than Char in some significant way that no one could see. Even though he felt like he was constantly in Char's shadow, he had also felt like it was all a magnificent sham. Char was just the Golden Boy. Algernon was the real hero. He knew all along. . . he would show them, all of them. _He_ was better. _He_ was the best.

King Charmont would be nothing, nothing, nothing. . .

For he had seen it. His suspicions were confirmed. The way to gain his rightful place: opened. The evidence had been there in her strange eyes. With her birth, the baby Eleanor had just made all of his dearest wishes a sudden reality.

Simultaneously, he had the key and the final roadblock in one hand at once: the key that would make his plan possible was also the only obstacle in the way of preventing it. All he had to do was close his fist. . .

His hand moved to his pocket and produced a white ribbon. He had taken it when he had touched the infant during the anniversary celebration. No one had noticed; it had been tied on as a little ornament on the baby's white gown. . . He stroked it, thinking of the unwitting girl who was to be the undoing of her entire family.

These malicious thoughts were interrupted by a loud _bang_ and a blindingly bright light, which glowed even brighter and hotter for a split second before quickly fading away. In its place stood a tall, imposing woman, her floaty, sky-blue gown and angelic-looking cascade of white-blond hair at odds with the glowering, livid expression that she directed at the duke.

"_What is the meaning of this?_" she shrieked, the windows rattling with the force of her voice.

Lord Algernon cowered a little despite himself, one arm rising of its own accord to hover near his face just in case she decided to try something funny. His eyes warily flicked between her face and her hand (which was not actually the source of her power at all - the Duke, of course, could not know this).

"M-my d-dear lady, to what are you a-alluding?"

She pointed the aforementioned hand directly at him, and this time, he ducked for real, covering his face with both arms over his head.

"You," she said, still pointing menacingly, "are a _fool_."

"M-m-my lady?" His voice was muffled by the shield of his arms.

"You _attended_ the celebration. That was stupid enough, but no, you had to go further, you had to actually _approach_ her! And what's more, _you took a ribbon from her dress! _How could you be such an insufferable idiot? You probably gave the entire plan away, since you're so unbelievably _transparent_!"

"B-but my lady, w-we had to be sure, didn't we? We planned on seeing for ourselves, didn't we? I-I say, I was only following the pla-"

"NO, YOU WERE _IGNORING_ MY WISHES AND APPARENTLY ATTEMPTING TO _RUIN_ THE PLAN."

He ducked still lower, waiting for her wrath, but seconds passed in silence, and he slowly raised his head. . .

Only to find that she had vanished.

"Ohhhh. . ." he moaned, distressed. "What will she do, what will she do?" He wrung his hands, moving to the window to peer out anxiously. Suddenly, panic erased all worry from his features.

"No, my lady, no! Not the servants, _not the servants!_" he shouted, though it was useless. She was probably miles away.

He ran full pelt out of his study, into the hallway and down the staircase. Sure enough, a familiar and wholly unwelcome sight met his eyes at the front entrance of his manor.

His housekeeper, Mrs. Stubbs, was standing beside the front doors. Only, she was not Mrs. Stubbs. She was a very large, very fat pig.

Algernon ran for the kitchens. His cook, the serving maids, and the stable boy: all geese.

He ran into the library. His manservant was clucking around, pecking at the floor.

He made for the stables, the gardens, and the conservatory. He was met with the same sight every time: all of his servants had been turned into barnyard animals.

* * *

Night fell. The windows of the duke's manor remained dark; no light glowed from within, except for one room: the study. He had managed to light a fire there, at least. The fairy Cassandra had done her work well: without his servants, on whom he relied implicitly for all of his necessities, he was pretty much helpless. He had been waited on, hand and foot, his entire life via his high rank: son of a duke, cousin to the prince and nephew to the king. He could not so much as lift a finger in bathing, dressing, or caring for himself. He had never had to; therefore, he had never learned.

Cassandra had employed this punishment once before, with the result that on day three without any hired help, he had gone to find her. He had been wearing the same clothes for those three days, and his face was a patchy mess of stubble, longer beard, and nicks and cuts. He stank to high heaven and his shoes were on the wrong feet. He had managed to eat by picking plain fruit and vegetables and eating them raw and whole (not such a good idea with the potatoes), but still, his stomach had ached painfully with hunger. He was used to a nice roast of some kind or other every day, as well as a ham for breakfast and some choice cutlets for the midday meal.

Taking away his servants was a low blow, indeed.

He stood before the fire, hearing the calls of various animals throughout his manor, and grimaced. He would not wait so long this time. He would go to find Cassandra as soon as day broke and beg forgiveness.

But, before he could resolve on this plan completely, someone spoke behind him. "There will be no need to seek me out this time." He started, turning at the soft, lilting voice which would have been better off belonging to a sweet, innocent girl of sixteen, not a fairy who was hundreds of years old.

"I will not relent. You have been incredibly foolish, and already some suspicion has been raised by your behavior." He opened his mouth to defend himself, but she glared at him in warning. "You thought your intentions would never be known, did you? Do I have to remind you how transparent your emotions can be when you aren't paying heed? It seems that you were so elated upon discovering that the baby is exactly who we thought, that you completely lost all sense of yourself. A guard saw you, Algernon, and he saw your implied malicious intent. What's more, he _saw_ you holding that blasted ribbon!"

"How do you-?"

"I have my ways. Don't be so simple. Do you really think that the parlor tricks I punish you with are the extent of my power? My magic knows no bounds!" She laughed to herself, which would have been a pretty, pleasing sound, but for the horrible undertone of evil self-satisfaction.

"As far as your behavior goes, you might as well have started rubbing your hands together and cackling evilly while you were still conversing with the king and queen. It would have had the same effect!"

He finally spoke, and he worded carefully. "I am sorry that it was so. Perhaps I did lose myself for a second; however, I can assure you that in front of the king and queen, I let nothing slip. I am positive that the king still trusts me. . ."

"You forget your behavior to the queen, I think. She is very quick. She notices things. I'll give her that, at least," Cassandra sniffed. Her dislike of the queen was no secret. "She overheard the guard informing the king of your behavior, and she related her own observations. The king, of course, listens to his wife above all others, the fool."

"Still, my lady, I do not see where the problem lies. One guard's suspicion is nothing, surely? So he saw me with a ribbon in my hand. So what? It could have been anything. Furthermore, surely Queen Ella cannot have noticed anything too telling? I say, this is ridicu-"

"It was enough. The king is on the lookout. He has alerted the rest of the royal guard, and apparently, others have shared similar, past stories of dodgy behavior they observed in you, which was less than helpful to our cause. I'm afraid we will have to wait to act until they are no longer watching you like a hawk."

Algernon was outraged. "Surely this is the most ridiculous - I never - when – ?"

"_Silence! _You are lucky I am so fond of you, Lord Algernon, otherwise this little setback would have cost you dear, indeed. As it is, I need you, so what you get is what I have already dished out. Once again, please do not attempt to seek me out. Your servants will return to their human forms. . . that is, once I believe my lesson has been fully learned."

She cocked her head to one side, surveying him, waiting for a reaction to this last sentence. Algernon managed to keep his mouth shut, though he clenched his fists and turned several shades of purple in the process. Cassandra smiled, and though her face was beautiful, the action was not a friendly or reassuring sight. Rather, it seemed to entail a warning.

"Well, then. As I have _other _matters to attend to. . . I will contact you when the time is near. Until then, my Lord Duke." With another mocking smile, Cassandra made a little curtsy, and then the bright light lit up the room for the second time that day. When it faded, she was gone.


	5. The Birthday Party

**5 ~ THE BIRTHDAY PARTY**

Time, as it always does and always will do, went by.

Nora grew, eventually crawling and getting into everything within reach of her chubby little hands. Her hair was dark brown, almost black, like her mother's, and it curled in gentle waves as it got longer. Her eyes remained that strange hue of blue-violet. Ella noticed, but didn't worry too much. She had thought the color would change, maybe darken into a deep blue, but it made no difference. The shade was altogether lovely, and it didn't seem to signify anything. Nora was perfectly healthy.

Soon Nora was walking, and along with that, attempting to follow her older brothers wherever they went, toddling along after them, often stumbling in the grass and bursting into tears. Ella or Char or Mandy were always there to pick her up, dry her eyes, and whisper something silly in her ear to make her laugh.

Davy made a favorite of his little sister. Many times he would double back for her, taking her tiny hand in his, and together they would run through the grass. He would play endless games of peek-a-boo with her, and was forever trying to make her laugh. He would pull silly faces, crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue, until they were both doubled up with giggles.

Nora's first word, much to the delight of her brother, was "Dave."

At length, and also so quickly that it seemed to happen in a trice, almost a year passed. Nora's first birthday was just around the corner. Ella and Char planned a quiet celebration, just the family and a few dear friends. Mandy had been baking for what seemed like weeks, and little games were planned for the children.

Soon, the event was only a day away. Ella and Nora were enjoying some time alone together in the garden, and eventually Mandy joined them. She watched them playing for a while, and then cleared her throat. She had sought out Ella for a specific reason, one that she finally saw fit to bring up.

"Lady, surely you've noticed. . ."

"Noticed what, Mandy?" Ella bounced Nora higher on her knee, and the baby laughed delightedly. Ella laughed too, barely paying Mandy any attention.

"Ella." Mandy's tone was firmer now.

Ella looked up, surprised. She stilled Nora, pulling her further onto her lap. Nora chewed on her fist, looking calm and content.

"Her eyes. Surely you've noticed Nora's eyes."

Ella looked troubled. She glanced down at her daughter, then back at Mandy, biting her bottom lip.

"Yes, of course I have," she sighed. "But. . . surely violet eyes aren't so terribly out of the ordinary? In fact, they aren't even true violet. They have a bit of blue in them, like the color of bluebells. They're really more lavender-blue."

Mandy shook her head. "It doesn't matter _how_ violet they are, or aren't. They're still violet, and I'm afraid they are _very_ out of the ordinary, sweet. It's not something you see everyday. . . in fact, it's not something one _ever_ sees, usually. Nora's are the first set I've seen in almost two centuries."

Ella looked dumbstruck at this information. She furrowed her brow, staring in confusion at Mandy's patient expression.

"Mandy. . . how can this be? I don't understand. . ."

"Lady, you're forgetting about Nora's ancestry; you're forgetting about _your_ ancestry. We had this discussion long ago. You, your mother, your mother's mother, all of the Eleanors, are Friends of-"

"The Fairies!" Ella supplied, her eyes widening. "But what does that have to do with Nora's eyes? Friends of the Fairies just have a drop of fairy blood in them, if I remember correctly. I mean, I always knew that all of my children would have small feet, but beyond that. . ."

"Ah, but there we have the snag. All of your children, until Nora, have been boys."

"Mandy?"

"Yes, the Eleanor line are all Friends of the Fairies. . . but just the _Eleanor_ line, dear. The _female_ line."

"Oh. _Oh._"

"For some reason, it passes over the males. From the human mother to the daughter is how it goes. Either way, fairy blood is exceedingly rare. Fairies don't often fall in love with humans, let alone with our own kind, and we certainly don't pass on our magic through bloodlines. Us women do not bear children; fairies aren't born like humans."

"Then how would the fairy blood be passed on in the Eleanor line? How would it have come about in the first place?"

"There _is_ a small exception of sorts, which happens once in a blue moon. In this case, quite some time ago, a man named Cedric, a fairy, fell in love with a human woman. I can't even begin to tell you how rare that is."

"_I've_ never heard of such a thing. But let me guess. . . the woman's name was Eleanor?"

"Right you are, love. And she bore his child."

"That's the exception? The males can pro-create?"

"Only with humans, and only with the _right_ humans. She must have been special, to have given birth to a fairy's child."

"Was the baby a fairy? Wait. . . no. You said fairies aren't born. . ."

"That's right, we're not. Therefore, Cedric's daughter wasn't a fairy; _but_, she had her father's blood in her, fairy blood. Eventually, she had a daughter, and her daughter had a daughter, and so on."

"So fairy blood passes from mother to daughter. . . and we were so certain that I would never have a daughter. . ." Ella stared down at the baby in her lap wonderingly. Nora was now playing with a tendril of her mother's dark hair.

"Yes, so it never came up, did it? But here is a daughter, another Eleanor. She has the fairy blood in her."

"Tell me, Mandy, what does this have to do with her eyes?"

"I can't be entirely certain. I only know that two centuries ago, I knew a human with violet eyes, and she was. . . well. . . _special_."

"What do you mean by _special_?"

"I mean that she could do magic."

* * *

Ella had been in shock for a full five minutes upon hearing Mandy's information. _Could Nora be magical?_

Ella's questioning, after she had come to herself, had been rapid-fire after that. Mandy dealt with the barrage as best as she could, but it soon became clear: her knowledge about the phenomenon was limited, and even the fairy world had few recorded instances of such a thing, and therefore little information.

The key points were this: fairies could not bear fairy children. Mandy had made that absolutely clear. Fairies were not born (and she had refused to tell Ella how fairies came into existence, much to Ella's annoyance).

But (and this was a huge "but"), _male_ fairies could father _human_ children.

It was extremely rare, as evidenced, and it happened maybe once every couple hundred years. That was why there were so few Friends of the Fairies left. In fact, until Ella had given birth to Nora, she had been the only one left in Kyrria.

This was the only way that Mandy could account for the woman she had known. She had been mortal and human, through and through, but she had had magical abilities, like a fairy. The final fact that linked her to Nora in Mandy's mind: The woman's eyes had been violet.

Of course, there were doubts as well. Nora's eyes could have been the result of a recessive family trait making an appearance. Ella had never seen eyes of that shade, and neither had anyone else, but that didn't mean that it was totally unprecedented.

Mandy did say, however, that it was possible that magic, in a human, could be a recessive trait just as well as violet eyes could be. In fact, the more they had discussed it and turned it over, the more it made sense. After all, the fairy blood had been there in the line all the while. Why couldn't it be similar to traits such as hair color, eye color, or height? It was just like a redhead inexplicably being born into a family of brunettes, except more extreme.

Maybe magic didn't only belong to fairies.

The only problem was, they couldn't know if Nora actually _had_ any magic in her. She was far too young, and hadn't displayed any outward signs in her one year of life. And, even if she had, they wouldn't know what they were, Ella reasoned.

The only thing that they could do, it seemed, was wait. Would Nora have the gift of magic, like the strange woman that Mandy had known so many years ago, or would she be a normal girl with tiny feet and peculiar eyes?

Only time would tell.

* * *

Nora's birthday began with her first visit to the royal menagerie. Her favorite creatures, of course, were the two unicorns grazing in a small pasture. Mandy lifted her up to the fence and one of them trotted over, dipping its magnificent head so that Nora could pat its forelock. Henry attempted to sneak over and pet it, too, but it galloped away as soon as he came near, much to his consternation.

They also visited the centaurs, the exotic birds, and saw the griffins from afar. The dragons were passed over, as they would only frighten Nora and Davy. The older boys were disappointed and pouted. The dragons were their favorites.

Later, the party was held in the castle garden, near the pond. A long table stood under the shade of a large oak tree, covered with a lavender cloth and a gigantic white cake with lavender flowers - all Mandy's doing. One large candle stood on the very top layer. Char held Nora in his arms so she could puff up her cheeks and blow it out. After everyone had helped themselves to the delicious cake, the children took turns performing little skits and songs in honor of Nora, who clapped and laughed with delight.

As the sun began to set, the party broke up, and Char and Ella took Nora up to her nursery. She drowsed in Char's arms, and immediately fell asleep as soon as he placed her in her crib. The two parents stood side-by-side, arms around each other, as they gazed down at their daughter.

"She'll sleep well tonight, after such a big day," Ella said softly.

"They grow up so fast, don't they?" Char said, a little wistfully. "It seems just yesterday that she was born, and now a year has gone by. I wish time would slow down a little, just so I could take it all in."

Ella turned towards him, resting her head on his shoulder. "I know exactly how you feel." She spoke into the cloth of his tunic, her voice muffled. "I think we simply have to be grateful for every moment, every day."

"I agree, wholeheartedly." Char bent his head, kissing her temple.

Together they walked out, extinguishing the lantern as they went. Nora slept on, cheeks rosy, a tiny bit of white frosting on the corner of her mouth and on the tip of her nose. She breathed deeply and evenly, dreaming of little girls wearing garlands of lavender flowers, riding unicorns in green pastures.

* * *

Loud footsteps and muffled shouts woke Char and Ella. Char sat up, instantly on the alert, but Ella turned over and squinted blearily into the dark. It was the dead of night.

Char was already out of bed, pulling on his sword and struggling into his boots. Ella sat up in bed, but before she could muster the sufficient amount of effort it took to leave it and find her dressing gown, some shouts could be heard from somewhere off in the castle. Muffled footsteps on the stone floor, like someone wearing slippers, got louder, and were quickly followed by the door banging as if someone wanted to break it down.

"Your Majesties! Please! Wake up!"

Char yanked open both doors, and Nancy stumbled in. She was breathing hard, like she had run a very great distance and had not stopped for anything.

"I am. . . so. . . sorry. . ." she panted, her hand clutching her side. "Something. . . terrible. . ."

Ella was wide awake now. Thrusting her arms into the sleeves of her dressing gown, she hurried to Nancy's side. "Nancy, you're frightening me. Please, just take a deep breath. . . That's it. My goodness, you're shaking like a leaf." Ella had reached for Nancy's arm to steady her, and indeed, the woman was quivering all over.

Nancy burst into tears. "Oh, my lady, I'm so sorry. . . oh, but someone has to break the news!"

Ella looked at Char, and his horrified expression matched hers. What could possibly have happened?

Time seemed to stop as Nancy finally managed to deliver her message. "It's little N-Nora. . . she. . . she. . . s-she's gone!"

Char did not stop to hear the rest. He bolted for the bedroom doors and disappeared behind them. "I'm going to find Captain Hugh!" he yelled as he ran. Ella could hear his heavy steps echoing down the hallway. Soon they grew faint, and then they were gone.

Ella felt frozen. Nancy kept sobbing.

Nora, gone?

All at once, panic hit her over the head like a sledgehammer. She rushed into the hallway, following in Char's wake. At the stairs she turned left, towards the nursery. She burst through the doors to find a group of servants, guards, and Mandy standing near the window, huddled together and whispering.

The crib was empty.

Ella fell to her knees, insensible to everything else.

Eventually, she was faintly aware of Mandy at her side, wrapping warm arms around her. She put a hand to her face. It came away wet. Tears were pouring down her cheeks. Ella felt so numb that she hadn't even noticed.

"Shhh. I know, sweet, I know. There, there." Mandy's own voice was thick with crying.

"Are the boys all right?" Ella managed.

"Perfectly fine. Asleep in their beds. The captain has stationed guards at every door, and more are patrolling the grounds."

"Wh-where's Char?" Her voice cracked.

"Here," came a male voice from behind her. Mandy let her go, and Ella whirled around and flung herself into his arms.

As he stroked her hair, she finally steeled herself to ask the most important question.

"Char, where is our baby?"

* * *

Gone.

Baby Nora had vanished into thin air.

The guards who had been patrolling the grounds and the gardens had reported seeing a strange light emanating from one of the windows in the castle. It had grown brighter and brighter, until it seemed as if it could not get any more blinding. Then it had faded. One of the guards had recognized the window as belonging to the royal family's private wing of the castle. An alert had been sent out, and Nancy just happened to catch wind of it as she was going to bed. She had checked on each of the boys, and then Nora. After discovering that the baby was missing, she had gone straight to the king and queen.

There were no signs of forced entry into the castle. All of the important entrances were firmly locked when checked. No one had seen any trespassers: not servants, not guards, not anyone.

The guards had searched the entirety of the grounds and every room, nook and cubbyhole in the castle. There was no trace of Nora, or any clue that an intruder had been there.

Char ordered the captain of the guard, Captain Hugh, to send scouts into Frell and on every road leading out of Frell. He ordered them to search every household.

Meanwhile, all they were able to do was wait. Char was restless, pacing the room in which he, Ella and Mandy occupied. Ella, on the other hand, was almost past panic and grief. Instead, she was still in shock – she was absolutely livid. She wanted to personally hunt down whoever had taken Nora. Mandy wanted to laugh at the image of gentle, slight Ella on the warpath, but she didn't have the heart. She felt utterly defeated and fiercely worried for Nora.

In fact, more than fiercely worried: more like deathly afraid. She couldn't let it show, though. She had to keep it to herself for the sake of the two people in the room with her.

She'd had a suspicion, ever since she had heard the story from the guards about the light in the window, that no ordinary thief had taken the child. In fact, to Mandy, the entire situation smacked of magical involvement.

However alarming, that wasn't what worried her. What worried her was that Nora's kidnapper had used Big Fat Magic. Bigger magic than Mandy had ever dreamed of using. . . no, scratch that, could _never_ have dreamed of using. And, what's more, it looked like they had done it with absolutely no qualms about the possible consequences.

Mandy didn't want to think further about someone so careless in possession of something so precious.

All of a sudden, Ella broke the tense atmosphere that had been building in the room. "Char, I can't stand this." She stood up, her face desperate, her eyes full of fire. "I can't sit here and do nothing. I can't!"

"So you won't allow me to go out alone, but I'm supposed to allow you?"

Char had been ready to jump on horseback and go with the guards in their search of the town and surrounding area, but Ella had begged him not to leave her behind.

"No. I'm saying that we should go together."

"Together? But Ella, you can't ride side-saddle and expect to keep up. We would need to cover a lot of ground. Besides, it's too dangerous. I can't risk it."

"I won't ride side-saddle. I'll borrow a pair of your breeches. You know I'm better on a horse than most of the guard; you taught me, after all. We can ride together and look for Nora."

Char looked hesitant. He desperately wanted to be out doing something, _anything_ to help. . . "What about the boys?"

"Mandy is here. She'll be with them."

Char and Ella looked at each other, and something passed between them. Mandy was familiar with this kind of communication that they had, of speaking without words. She sighed.

"I'm going up to the boys. You two _be careful_. Don't go risking your necks if you don't have to." She hugged Ella, then made her way to the door. She paused before opening it. Without turning around, she said, "I'm sending a little something with you, for luck." Ella raised her eyebrows, but Mandy spoke quickly before she could say anything. "_It will be perfectly small magic, Lady!_" She rushed from the room.

Char and Ella stared at each other for another long moment. Finally, Char spoke. "Well, we'd best get our cloaks."


	6. Danger

_**Thanks so much for the reviews! I love getting feedback. _

_This is a bit of a long one... :D**_

* * *

**6 ~ DANGER  
**

Eventually, the search started petering out. There were no signs, no traces - nothing to track, no leads to follow.

There was simply nothing.

Char and Ella returned at daybreak following their night's frantic search. At first, they had been hopeful. Having a personal stake in the search for their daughter had given them a feeling of control. One way that Char and Ella were similar was that they both hated to feel helpless or useless.

Gradually, though, those feelings had crept back in as the search stretched out longer and daybreak got closer. When their horses clattered into the castle courtyard a few hours after dawn, both of them were silent, their faces drawn with exhaustion. They went straight to their other children, who were breakfasting with Mandy. Ella gathered them all into her arms, her tears an afterthought. Char remained grave and grim, silent as a statue. He stared out a window, deep in thought.

Months dragged by. Soon the entire country knew of its missing princess, yet no word came of any sighting, any clue, any sign. It was months of continued searching throughout the kingdom, and the agony of continued nothingness for the king and queen.

Soon, almost a year had passed since the day Nora had gone missing.

A ceremony had been held, a few months before, to mourn the loss of the princess. The Kyrrians had paid their respects and moved on. The royal family put on a brave face for the world, but they still had something that the rest of the country did not: hope.

Ella especially still believed that Nora could be found. She kept this belief burning so brightly inside of her that Char's hope could not be extinguished, either. Between them, the flame kept on glowing, at times flickering, but always lit.

They kept sending out messengers and scouts. They kept coming back empty-handed and without information, but still the hope lived on.

Ella grew restless again. She had been content, for many long months, to let others go and search for her child for her. Soon, though, this was not enough. She determined to set out on a journey of her own, to travel to all of the neighboring countries, even those that weren't friendly, to search for her daughter. Char tried, but could not dissuade her.

Eventually Ella's determination proved to be unnecessary. A messenger arrived back at the castle.

This time, he was carrying news.

* * *

"Someone has seen our baby?" Ella could barely contain herself, let alone stay in her seat. Her hands clutched the armrests of her chair.

The messenger, hair windblown, huffing and puffing from his dash into the castle, had arrived only moments before. "Yes, my lady, if what I heard was true. They also saw a lavender blanket with embroidery on it - initials, I think -"

"E. R.?" Ella held her breath. Char stood close to her chair, and he stiffened, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

"Yes."

Ella looked up at Char, gripping his arm. He relaxed, breathing out a great gust of air. "Tell us exactly what this person saw and heard. Tell us everything."

The messenger related his tale as best as he could. He had been asking around in a small village a few miles north of the Kyrrian border, in Ayortha, and had stopped for refreshment at a local inn. He had been drinking down a large tankard of ale with gusto when he overheard a conversation.

The innkeeper's wife had been talking to the cook:

". . . It was strange, that it was. She was very tall and imposing-like, but fearful ugly. The baby she was carryin' was just about the sweetest little thing I ever seen, no way on earth she coulda belonged to that woman. A foundling, maybe. Anyway, she was sayin' that she needed a place for the night and whatnot, so I says sure, of course we have us plenty of room here. So she handed me a gold piece and that was that. The next mornin' they was gone without a trace."

The messenger had called the innkeeper's wife over to him to question her. She had relayed that the baby had had dark, wavy hair and a sweet expression. It had been a deep night, but of those things she was sure. The baby had been wrapped in a lavender blanket, very finely made, from what she could see, with the initials 'E. R.' embroidered on it.

The woman who had carried the baby seemed to be more troubling for the innkeeper's wife to remember. She couldn't seem to recall exactly what the woman's features had looked like, and when asked what she was wearing, could only come up with a vague description that entailed "A darkish cloak-ish thing. Shapeless, more or less."

At the end of his tale, the messenger was paid handsomely, and then dismissed. As soon as he had left the room, Ella and Char were hugging and talking at once.

"Char, this is it! It was her, I know it was her! We have to go - we have to leave immediately!"

"We will. We _shall_. This is the only lead we've ever gotten . . . A whole year . . . to dismiss it or leave it unexplored would be foolishness itself. I'll order a coach to be ready in an hour-"

"I'll run and tell Mandy."

They parted, and within the hour, both were seated in a coach, waving goodbye to Mandy, Jerrold, Henry, Gareth, Davy, and a few servants, including Nancy, who had all come to see them off.

Ella blew them kisses, and Char saluted them. The boys ran after the coach until it reached the gate, and then watched it as it disappeared over a hill.

"Come boys," Mandy said, taking Davy by the hand. Gareth and Henry grabbed onto the strings of her apron, flicking them like they would the reins of a pony. "Mush, Mandy!" Mandy dutifully made a neighing noise and pretended to trot inside. Giggles followed suit, and were cut off when the door closed behind them.

Jerry hung back. He stared at the hills to the north, where his mother and father were heading. At ten years old, he was still full young, but he was growing up little by little. He was taller, and he was practicing with a sword everyday.

He felt something odd tugging at his insides. Something was wrong. As he turned and headed back to follow in Mandy's wake, his brow was creased, troubled with the thoughts that worried him.

He viewed his parents' journey to Ayortha with nothing but anxiety. He had a bad feeling, and he couldn't get rid of it.

* * *

A week passed with no word from Ella and Char.

"It's only to be expected," Mandy told Jerry, who had been peppering her with questions about their return. "They had to travel for the better part of the week, and now they're probably finding out whatever they can about your sister. Don't you worry your little head about them."

Despite this and even more reassurance from Nancy, Jerry still fretted. This wasn't like him, and Mandy and Nancy whispered together in hallways about him, plotting ways that they could distract him and the other children.

Jerry wasn't deaf to any of this; he had grown much more perceptive than his elders realized, perhaps. He played along, though, pretending to be startled when he walked around a corner and found them murmuring together yet again. When they took a trip to the old castle gardens, bringing a picnic, he pretended to be mollified. He gamely played hide-and-seek with his brothers, and he tried hard to hide his worry. He even participated in Mandy and Nancy's ploy, playing his part to keep the minds of his siblings off their vacant parents and onto cheerful topics.

More days passed.

Before long, Jerry wasn't the only one who was worried.

The littler boys started creeping into the older boys' rooms at night, and soon they were all regularly sleeping in the same room, with no comment from any of the grown-ups. Jerry let Davy crawl into his own bed, and though his little brother kicked and his stuffed bear took up most of the room, Jerry was glad of the warm body next to him. The days and nights passed, and soon things progressed to the point where the brothers were keeping even closer corridors: eventually they didn't like to be apart during the day _or_ at night. Mandy was with them almost all of the time, too, and lessons stopped as well as visits to the practice yard.

They all seemed to be waiting.

* * *

On a hot, stifling night, Jerry was lying in bed, Davy next to him as usual, his thumb in his mouth. Ella had been trying to break him of that habit before she left.

Jerry kicked off the sheet. The room was so hot, it seemed to be closing in on him. He sat up.

Without warning, a rumbling noise erupted out of thin air, and the room began to shiver and quake.

It was a deep, grinding sound, and it seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere. Some pictures fell off the wall, and the furniture shook and moved. The windows rattled, and plaster dust fell from the ceiling. From the hallway, smashes and crashes and random bangs echoed from objects being upended, creating a racket that only added to the general pandemonium. It felt like the entire castle was on the brink of collapsing around them.

All of the boys were awake now, and all of a sudden Mandy was there, her arms around Henry and Gareth. Davy was crying, and Jerry was holding onto him, trying to shield him from the pieces of plaster that were crumbling from the ceiling.

Then, all at once, it stopped.

Everything was absolutely still.

Finally, shouts could be heard in the distance. Mandy crowded the boys onto one bed.

"You stay _there_," she said, and her voice was so stern that they never would have dared crossing her. She hurried from the room, calling out over her shoulder, "I'll be back in two minutes! _Stay put_!"

They stayed. Two minutes passed, then five, then ten. Mandy did not return. Davy began to cry again, quietly this time, tears rolling down his cheeks noiselessly. Gareth put an arm around him. Henry hugged his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth slowly. Jerry sat still and silent, erect and alert. Every time he heard a sound, he watched the door.

No one came.

The younger boys eventually drifted off. Jerry and Henry looked at each other, and immediately they each knew that they were both scared stiff.

"Mandy's gonna come back, isn't she?" Henry's eyes were wide, their usual soft blue darkened by the shadowy room.

"I don't know. If she doesn't, we're going to have to find out what's going on."

"Whaddaya think happened? What was all that noise and shaking?"

"Henry, _I don't know_. Stop asking me and let me think for a minute."

Jerry reckoned on worse than Henry could have imagined. His bad feeling still pervaded everything else. Something bad had happened; Mandy had promised, and she hadn't come back. Mandy never broke a promise.

Finally, he resolved that if Mandy did not return by daybreak, they would have to use the passage.

The passage was a family secret. In the private royal chambers of the castle, in the study, there was a bookcase. If one slid it aside, there was a small door, just big enough to crawl through. Eventually this crawlspace opened up into a bigger passage, made of stone. It traveled through the heart of the castle, and then out under the grounds, where it became dirt. It went under the gates and opened up in a secret spot in the woods beyond.

This passage had been shown to Jerry when he was eight years old, a short while after Nora had been born. It had been a very solemn event, almost like a rite of passage. Char had taken him through the entire thing by light of a small torch, and had told him that he must never tell anyone of its existence, not even his younger brothers. When they were old enough, they would be told, too, but not before. The passage was only to be used in the gravest of emergencies, when escape was vital.

Jerry felt that this situation definitely counted.

He did not sleep. He remained awake even after Henry had succumbed to slumber, keeping a silent vigil.

He waited.

* * *

An hour before dawn, a soft creaking noise made Jerry bolt upright. He had been trying very hard, but had almost given in when his head started to nod. The noise startled him out of sleep and immediately into being fully awake.

Soft footsteps. . . And then. . .

It was Mandy.

Jerry rushed forward, hugging her around her plump middle. He wanted to cry with relief.

"Shush, love. I'm here; you're all right." She rubbed his back.

Jerry blinked quickly at the few tears that had managed to escape, rubbing them away with his fists with embarrassment. Mandy had begun to bustle quietly around the room. She tucked a piece of parchment, torn and stained, that she had been carrying into her apron pocket, and then she began throwing clothing into a rucksack.

Jerry stared. He whispered, "Mandy, why-"

"Shhh. Jerry, I know this is all very sudden and confusing, but we have to leave, dear. All of us."

Jerry had known this was coming. He had been ready for it all night.

"Should I wake the others?"

"Yes, but gently, quietly. Tell them to get dressed, and then I'll explain a little better. We have a bit of time, yet."

Jerry followed suit, waking up Henry first, hushing him and whispering what was happening in a rush. After Henry was up, they both prodded the others, and soon all four boys were dressed and sitting on the rug in the middle of the room. Mandy was stuffing a few more bottles into the rucksack, and then she closed it and turned to look at them. They waited for her to speak.

She still whispered. "We're going on a little trip, boys. We must leave the castle as silently as we can, understand? There are bad things, bad people afoot. We musn't let them know where we are or where we're going. Don't be frightened, loves. I'm with you, and we're going to your mother and father."

Davy spoke aloud, "Mother and Fa-!"

Henry clapped a hand over his mouth. "Didn't you hear Mandy? _Quiet_!"

Henry removed his hand, and Davy pantomimed locking his lips shut and throwing away the key. Mandy smiled, and moved to ruffle his hair. "Now, all that I ask is that you follow me and leave the questions for later. Is that understood?"

All four boys solemnly nodded.

After repeating her instructions, Mandy led them all down the shadowy hallway, keeping them close beside her. She stopped at every corner and listened. When they finally reached the study, Jerry let out a breath that he hadn't even realized he'd been holding.

Gareth and Henry gasped when she pushed aside the bookcase, and Davy's eyes were as round as saucers, but Jerry just stepped forward and helped her move it completely out of the way. She opened the door, and Jerry pushed his brothers through. He looked questioningly at Mandy, but she urged him onward, so he went next.

He crawled into the little stone passage, going about ten feet before it opened up and became larger. He stood, joining his frightened-looking brothers. Mandy was right behind him, a bit out of breath.

"Mandy, what about the bookcase? Shouldn't we move it back in front of the door?"

She smiled smugly. "Small magic, Jerry."

With that, they continued down the dark passage, Mandy lighting the way with a small candle she had brought. By the time day was breaking, they were coming out the other side, into the woods.

* * *

They set out, and Mandy gave them all cloaks to wear, which she insisted upon, even though the day was sure to be hot.

"Mandy, it itches!" Davy wailed.

"What if I told you it was more small magic, then would you wear it?"

She received no more complaints after that. They were all fascinated by small magic.

Only once did they come anywhere close to another band of travelers. About fifty feet off, through the trees and bracken, they could see the shadowy shapes of a group of people. Mandy held out her arms, motioning for the boys to stop. They had already been marching silently, as they were all dead tired, but she put her finger to her lips anyway, as a caution.

They stared through the trees. The group was getting closer. Jerry sucked in a breath when he saw one man, maybe the scout, viewing the surroundings. He was going to look straight at them. Jerry threw a panicked look at Mandy, but she appeared very calm.

They waited. The man's gaze seemed to slide right by them. They all might as well have been trees.

Mandy smiled at the boys knowingly. She plucked at Henry's cloak as she passed him, winking.

Jerry looked down at his own cloak, understanding dawning on him. He smiled to himself as he trotted to catch up. His brothers adjusted their own cloaks rather importantly. Davy held his sleeve up to his face, examining it. He could see nothing but plain old gray wool.

* * *

They stuck to the woods, staying far from the main road. They walked and walked, and Jerry and Mandy took turns carrying Davy, who was soon asleep on his feet.

"Soon we'll be able to catch a coach, and then I can send another message to your parents that we're all well and on our way," Mandy said, trying to lift their spirits. They were all tired of walking and wanted desperately to know what was going on.

"Another message? Have you been in contact with them? Did they finally send word?" Jerry thought of the piece of parchment that Mandy had tucked into her pocket after she had returned to them.

"Yes, thanks be. Combined with the contents of that note and the night's events, I knew it was time for us to high-tail it out of there."

"Mandy, please tell us, what's going on?"

Mandy sighed. Finally, as they traveled, in fits and starts, she told the four princes as much as she thought they could handle of the events that had transpired that fateful night.

Before anything had begun, a messenger had arrived with the note from Char and Ella, and Mandy had been puzzling over it. It was dated four days prior. All it had said was:

_ False lead. We plan to travel to some neighboring villages and see what we can find out. Another week, at least._

All Mandy really could understand from it was that something was afoot.

And then, it had happened. The entire castle had shook as if it was going to crumble into ruins.

"-And I ran to you four, as quick as I could."

"What was it, that horrible grinding and shaking?" Henry piped in. This question had troubled him and his imagination the most.

The rumbling and shaking of the entire castle, she explained, was the result of an attack.

The boys all began talking at once at this, but she shushed them and continued.

It was not an ordinary attack. It was a _magical_ attack.

The boys were dumbfounded. They had never heard of any fairy using magic in such a way; it was the hugest magic that they had ever encountered.

But where had she been that whole night? they wondered.

She had run down to find out what had happened, she told them, but she had met with a horrible surprise.

The spell had not been meant to cause an earthquake.

Mandy had soon discovered that the guards, every one of them, had a blank look about their eyes. She questioned some of them, but none of them answered as they would have before. They didn't even look at her; they were like living statues.

The servants were addled, too. They all had the same blank look. With a growing suspicion in her mind, Mandy fearfully sought out Nancy.

She had been spelled. She did not even recognize Mandy.

The magic that had seemingly been bombed on the castle had been meant for every human inside of it. (Mandy was outraged at the incompetence and the arrogance that this spell implied - so carelessly done, that it caused after-effects that could have killed someone!)

"Then why aren't we under the spell, too? Why aren't _you_?" Jerry frowned, trying to work it out.

"Because I am not one to be trifled with, when it comes to trifling. And also because of that wonderful fool, Lucinda."

Lucinda was a person whom all of the boys were very familiar with. She was infamous in their household. They had heard their mother's tale a thousand times. In fact, they often made her tell it as a bedtime story; it was their favorite.

"What did Lucinda do?"

"When you were born, Jerry, she gave your parents another gift. Small magic, she called it. Hmph! The day that woman can control herself will be the day I start flying around with wings!"

Henry and Gareth doubled up with laughter at this, but Jerry remained impatient for answers. "What did she give them?"

"She put a spell around your bedroom, love, to keep you safe while you slept. It was a protection-type enchantment."

"We were all in my bedroom when the castle shook," Jerry said, his eyes widening with understanding.

"That you were, though the big one tried to get through. Did you see the plaster coming down from the ceiling? Indeed, it tried, but Lucinda's gift held. It must have been much bigger magic than she said!" Mandy looked intensely annoyed, but also, strangely enough, rather grateful. She sobered. "If only that spell had been around Nora's nursery," she said quietly, almost to herself.

"When you say _addled_, what does that mean? How was everyone else addled? What did that spell _really _do?"

"I'll tell you what it did. It paved the way for a new person to sit on the throne and wear the crown, that's what. It changed their allegiance, it made them obedient, except in the worst way possible. They're not serving your father anymore, my loves. Not the royal guard, not the servants, and not anyone else who matters, I expect."

Jerry was stunned, and the rest of the children were silent. Their father was the true, rightful king. It was hard for them to wrap their minds around big, bad magic that made it possible for someone else, an impostor, to take that place.

"Wh... who are they serving?"

"That horrid cousin of your father's. The Duke of Lynn, Lord Creepy-Crawly, better known as-"

"Lord Algernon?"

"The very one, and he and his cronies are exactly who I ran into next."

"What did you say? How did you get away?" The voices of all four boys tumbled over each other.

"I pretended that I was under the spell, too, of course. I had to serve the rat all manner of food; I've never seen such a pig. He never suspected who I am, though, and I slipped something into the dessert wine. He and all of his personal guards were snoring when I was finally able to slip out."

* * *

As soon as she was able, Mandy sent word to Char and Ella via Ella's magic book, which Ella always took with her when she and Char traveled. It was one-way communication, but useful nonetheless.

She told them not to return, and that she would meet them in secret with the children. She did not reveal anything else. She wanted to tell them the rest in person.

They reunited in the woods some miles from the Ayorthaian village. Mandy told them all she knew.

Ella lowered herself to the leafy ground, pulling her cloak around her. She did not say anything. Her face was white.

Char walked away as soon as he had heard all, his fist braced against his mouth. He disappeared into some overgrowth. No one stopped him.

* * *

Later, they all sat around a small campfire. Jerry sat next to his father, who squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. Davy sat on Mandy's lap sleeping. Ella had both arms around Gareth and Henry.

It was silent for awhile, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

Ella shifted in her seat. "Come, now. We can't be silent all night. Let's have some talk, shall we?" She proceeded to launch into the story of what she and Char had found when they had arrived at the Ayorthaian village some days ago.

When they had inquired at the inn where their daughter had supposedly been seen with a stranger, they found an innkeeper, all right. . .

But he didn't have a wife.

When they questioned him about the strange visitor the inn had received more than two weeks prior, he told them that he had never heard anything about it, nor had he seen anyone of the kind. When they persisted stubbornly, he called them all manner of names (not realizing that they were royal, probably, as they were both cloaked and hooded, and dusty and unkempt with travel) and told them to either pay for a meal or get out of his inn.

"We were too happy to leave. Unfortunately, we soon realized that his was the only inn in the entire village. Needless to say, we decided to camp instead, and then make an early start the next day. We sent our coachman and the coach away without us, and procured horses from a stable in the village."

They had decided to camp in a small clearing nearby, and then go on horseback to continue their inquiries around that part of the countryside. Their plans had been seemingly spoiled when, in the night, as they ate a small meal by their campfire, a band of thieves had appeared out of nowhere, insisting that they give up all of their belongings.

"They had all manner of bows and swords pointed at us, and both of us felt obliged to comply-"

"-Until your mother decided that she wouldn't go down that easily. She started speaking in different languages, switching from Ogrese to Abagdi to Gnomic to who knows what else, and she sounded positively insane. I had no idea what she was up to, but apparently, that was it." Char looked at Ella and laughed delightedly. It was the first time he had perked up all night.

"The thieves took one look at me, then turned tail and ran. They thought I was possessed."

Everyone shared a good laugh over that.

The next morning they had ridden through a few towns and asked around, but no one had seen nor heard of a strange woman or a baby.

Eventually, they stopped for refreshment at a small stream, and Ella had pulled out her magic book to check on the children. That was when they received Mandy's message.

"We were so afraid, your father and I. We didn't know what to think. We never would have suspected-" She broke off, and everyone went silent again.

"Tomorrow one of us will have to ride to the village and find out whatever we can. I might return on horseback-"

"No, Char." Mandy gently cut in. "I'm afraid it's much worse than you think. It would not do at all for you to go riding out into plain sight. You are the king, after all," (she did not let herself say _you were the king_) "and though we are not in Kyrria, someone would recognize you. We have to be careful."

"What do you suggest, then?"

"I'll disguise myself and go to the village. I will find out any news, and then I will report back. Then we can discuss what further action to take."

Char sighed deeply. "You're right, Mandy. We have to be both cautious and reasonable - however, I want to be expeditious, as well. If I can, I want to go back to Kyrria and try to set this right, myself."

Mandy shook her head. "I know in my heart that it won't be so easy; it pains me to even think it . . . but someone bigger is behind this, someone much more clever and far, far more reckless, hiding behind the Duke . . ." She related her fears about magic, more specifically, a fairy, being the cause of so much of their pain and grief.

"I think I had a feeling, too . . ." Ella said softly. "Especially when we could find no trace of Nora anywhere."

Jerry spoke up. He had been listening carefully to this conversation between the adults. All of his brothers were nodding off, but he was older. He was growing up. "I had a bad feeling. I had a bad feeling ever since you both went away, Mother, Father. I have a bad feeling now."

Ella looked at him, her face plainly displaying her worry in the firelight. She looked around at the others. Their expressions were mirrors of her own.

They went to sleep that night under the stars. They did not know it, but it was the last night that they would be able sleep without fear for a long, long time.

* * *

The next morning Mandy disguised herself and traveled to find news. It wasn't hard. Word had spread as quick as brush-fire. What she found was this:

By the time Mandy and the princes had reached Char and Ella safely, a royal decree had been sent out by the new king of Kyrria. According to him, the entire royal family was missing and suspicion surrounded their sudden disappearance - suspicion that he invented, of course.

He put a price on their heads, every single one of them, including little Davy, barely five years old. The reward was high. They were to be returned to the castle in Kyrria and imprisoned.

Within a matter of days, the true king and queen and their sons were outlaws in their own country.

As for the spell that had rocked the castle, it was as Mandy had feared. Anyone who had any clout at all, anyone who could have challenged the king, had been cursed. Not a single person who mattered was left to raise up an outcry of treason.

Banners were erected all over Kyrria, and royal messengers were sent to spread the word: Lord Algernon was the new king, and all must bow before him or be thrown to the ogres. Small uprisings started in the streets of Frell by various peasants and merchants, but were quickly stamped out by the crown. There was simply too much might behind the new king, including, unbeknownst to all except the real royal family, an anonymous fairy whose magic was completely out of control. Worst of all, no one had expected a thing, which made Algernon's rise to power all the more complete.

He could not be stopped. The magic that was supporting him was too big, too wild, too unpredictable. No one had ever heard of anything like it.

The fairy community, whoever they were, did not step forward. Fairies kept their identities secret for a reason. No one wanted to oppose a mad fairy on a rampage; there was no telling what might happen. None of them wanted to be associated with her, either. Big magic was out of the question. Many fairies simply up and left Kyrria. Those who stayed kept quiet.

Kyrria had seemingly been abandoned, and the country wilted and withered under its new regime.

Helpless and on the run, Char, Ella, Jerrold, Henry, Gareth, David, and Mandy were all forced to go into hiding.

* * *

_**More fun stuff is coming up, including angst and romance. :D Stay tuned!**_


	7. The House in the Mountains

_**I'm sorry this chapter is late - school is getting in the way of me and this fic.**_

* * *

**THE HOUSE IN THE MOUNTAINS**

"_Unacceptable!_"

Cassandra stalked forward. She seemed to grow taller as she fixed Algernon with a menacing glare, her eyes burning with fury.

"The second you sit in that throne and claim it as your own, _you fall asleep?_ Do you realize what has happened while you were having your pleasant little nap? _The princes have escaped!_"

Algernon was sitting as far back in his seat as possible, pressing himself into the wood, cringing away from her as she shrieked at him. Little beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. He had really done it this time.

"P-please, I don't know what. . . what h-happened. . . I was getting a little s-sustenance and then-"

"I don't want to hear your paltry excuses." Her voice was deadly quiet. "I don't think you realize how much more work you've created for me. Now we have the entire family running around the countryside, when the plan was to have them rounded up and under my- _our_ heel."

Algernon missed her quick correction. He was too frightened to be very observant, instead concentrating mostly on trying not to wet himself. He could not meet her eyes. His gaze was glued to her hands at her sides. Her fingers were twitching.

All of a sudden, in one quick, smooth motion, she raised her hand, giving it a little flick. His head jerked upward without his permission so that he was looking her in the face.

"I want you to look at me when I'm talking to you, Duke." She dropped her hand, and his movements were his own again. He kept his eyes trained on her, not daring to look away.

"Better. Now, the real question is, _what are you going to do to correct your mistake?_"

* * *

Far away, hidden in the mountains, a large house stood, made entirely of stone. A path wound down from its door, hugging the side of the mountain and disappearing as it descended. On this path, partially hidden by fir trees, the air glimmered. A spot of light appeared, getting brighter.

Out of this light a woman materialized, tall and brilliantly beautiful. She quickly pulled her cloak around herself and hurried up the path, towards the house.

She shut herself in her bedroom, locking the door. The servants were too stupid to understand her magic, or anything besides the orders she gave them (they had once been animals, after all - good help was _so_ hard to find), but she liked to take precautions.

She pulled the drapes over the high, narrow windows, cloaking the room in darkness. She waved her hand vaguely, and the lanterns lit themselves. She need not have waved her hand at all, but she was too tired to remember that she didn't have an audience. She moved purposefully to the far side of the room, to an object covered in a dark blue cloth of rich velvet. She took a fold in her hand, pulling in a sweeping motion. It whisked away from the thing it had been concealing: a long mirror, framed heavily in gold scroll-work.

Cassandra stared at her reflection. She preened, smoothing her long, white-blond hair, pursing her pomegranate-colored lips, pouting at herself admiringly. She looked into her own eyes, large and pure blue, fluttering her lashes. She gazed a minute longer, and then shifted slightly. As she stared at herself, her expression became penetrating. She blinked.

The Cassandra that the world knew was gone. In her place was another person altogether: still tall, still rather imposing, but only because of how unattractive she was. She had long, stringy hair that was somewhere between brown and blonde, so dull that it almost didn't look like a color at all, a plain face with small, beady eyes, and a crooked nose. She smiled at herself in an almost mocking way, revealing teeth that were a bit horsey.

She turned away from the mirror, her lip curling in disgust. She threw the velvet cloth back over it, then moved to sit in a winged chair by the fire. She lit it by looking at it, and soon the flames were crackling and popping. She settled into her seat, breathing deeply through her nose. The glamour was exhausting to keep up twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. It was good to be free for a minute, to rest herself.

She was tired of dealing with her so-called accomplices. Having them was a necessary evil, but utterly draining. She had no patience. It took everything she had not to turn these ridiculous _kings_ (they loved to think that they had the power, didn't they?) into objects like a chair or a rug. Not as interesting as transforming them into animals, but it would shut them up for eternity, which was all she ever wanted - from them, at least.

Lately, she _had_ wondered if Algernon's involvement was really worth all of the trouble . . . The slip-up with King Charmont's sons really was the mark of a complete buffoon; however, drawing up the warrants for the arrest of the entire family had been his idea. It had also been his idea to ask for a reward for their return and to spread that news as far as possible. He could be cunning if he wanted; maybe more so when he wanted to get back in her good graces.

How much trouble could the royal family cause, anyway? They knew absolutely nothing. They did not know where their daughter was. Cassandra, herself, had confused the scent, giving them a false lead. It would be impossible for them to re-enter the castle grounds, or even the Kyrrian border, without being apprehended. They were a thorn in her side, nothing more. One easily removed.

Algernon and Nathaniel did serve their purpose, she allowed. As placeholders, at least, they were invaluable to her while she was elsewhere and attending to the greater goal she had in mind.

She still couldn't help thinking . . . If only she didn't need them. For now, they would have to suffice; necessary means to an end.

Fairies couldn't sit on a throne or wear a crown. It was against the laws of Fairyland. A fairy in a position of power was a dangerous thing; it would utterly transform them. They were already the most inherently powerful beings in the world. Giving them any other kind of power tipped the scales out of balance. It was against nature itself: no one should be so totally and completely above the rest, invincible, unstoppable.

Most fairies did not want or seek power, and most could not be tempted by it - it was not in their nature - but if it was given to them, only disaster could follow. In fact, throughout the history of too many countries, the bloodiest wars were fought when a fairy rose to power, insatiable for it. Only power and the inevitable lust for it that followed could rip away a fairy's humanity; only power could twist them into something evil and corrupt, no matter what they had been before.

As beings of magic, they possessed infinite stores of magical potential. Most did not live up to that potential, though. It was not what fairies did. They preferred to stay insignificant, to keep their magic dampened and at bay. Big magic was a taboo.

The fact was, it was dangerous, and not only in regard to the countless unforeseeable after-effects of one enchantment. Magic also left behind traces of energy, depending on the size of the spell. If all fairies went around using magic left and right, all of that energy would have nowhere to go. The disturbance it would create in the atmosphere would be catastrophic. This was common knowledge to all fairies. Therefore, small magic was a rule that most swore by. _Small magic, small consequences_, was the saying.

Cassandra knew the rules. The reason everyone followed them was exactly why she broke them.

No one else would dare use their full score of magic. That left her free to do as she pleased.

She had tasted power once before, long ago . . . and maybe it had corrupted her. She didn't know, or care. Either way, it had only whetted her appetite. She wanted _more_.

No one would oppose her. What common fairy would retaliate against such big magic? The fear of wreaking any kind of havoc was so ingrained in them that most did not dare to step out of line.

Cassandra laughed to herself. Fools, all of them. Only she was brave enough, strong enough to use her full power. Only she would dare defy them all. One day, she _would_ sit on a throne. When that day came, she would command not one nation, but many. Her eyes glazed over as she imagined her kingdom - from sea to sea, it would stretch - and how much fear she would inspire in her subjects. For fear, Cassandra knew, was the most powerful feeling in the world. Those who feared her would never dare defy her.

She already had the kingdoms of Haddora and Kyrria under her control. Those silly _idiots_ posing as kings were just her puppets, though they had no idea. One had once been a real, noble king, beloved by his people. She had reduced his reputation to rubble. The people had no respect for him anymore, though they had no idea that it was not really him behind the absolutist rule that reigned in their kingdom, now. They had no idea that, behind the curtain, in the shadows, Cassandra was pulling the strings.

How ironic that the country in which she heard the prophecy, the words that had stayed in her mind for so long and had helped her, was the same country that she had first claimed, right under all of their noses.

She had known, when she had heard the gnomic woman speak, that it was partially about her. It was mostly intuition, but it was also obvious. The words had floated to her as if in a dream. She remembered that day so clearly . . .

. . .

_"This is ridiculous. I shouldn't be held accountable for anything!"_

_"I'm sure the king will pardon you for the rock slide, Cassandra. It was an accident, after all, and no one was hurt. At least you weren't taken into custody - you were only summoned; that's a good sign."_

_Cassandra glowered. "It's not his pardon that I'm concerned about, Lucinda. It's the fact that I have to ask for it _at all_. These silly little kings with their silly little laws irritate me so!"_

_Lucinda giggled in astonishment. "What are you saying? You want to be above the law? You know that is impossible, especially for our kind. To be above it would mean-"_

_"-I know, for heaven's sake! I know better than anyone!" Cassandra snapped. Lucinda just looked at her, her forehead wrinkled with confusion. Cassandra sobered, swiftly shifting the topic from herself to the other fairy, distracting her. "What about you? The way you dole out magic, it would be easy to assume that you believe that _you_ are above the law."_

_"What I do doesn't hurt anyone. You know I only want to help. I do _so _love to help! Especially since I am more capable of doing so than most. And just think, maybe this king will benefit from that help today! Oh, I can't wait to speak with him!" Lucinda stood on her tip-toes, looking out eagerly over the sea of heads still in front of them, all waiting their turn for an audience with the king. The silly grin on her face seemed to be permanently etched there, the previous conversation all but forgotten._

_Cassandra sighed, shaking her head. Lucinda was so simple, her desires exceedingly straightforward and easily met. If only Cassandra's desires were so easy to satisfy. . ._

_All at once, the echo of talk and laughter that had been ringing through the busy hall began to quiet. Cassandra could hear the sound of people shushing one another, and eventually, only a soft murmur remained. A voice could be heard over it, gravelly and low, speaking words that sounded strange but rang with importance. She looked through the crowd for the source. The voice seemed to be coming from the front of the hall, near the king. . ._

_It was a gnome woman. Cassandra recognized her; it was zhaphramM, widely known for her skills as a seer. What was even more odd was that the gnome was looking through the crowd, past all of the people . . . Cassandra blanched. Was the gnome staring at _her?_ She need not have wondered; she could literally feel zhaphramM's eyes boring into her own. No one seemed to notice; they were all too busy gawking with their mouths hanging open._

_The words wrapped around Cassandra, floating through the hall almost eerily. She froze as she listened._

_"Born on the last of the 499th. . ."_

_. . ._

Even then, her plans had already been half-formed. It was fate, she thought, that she had heard the prophecy at all. If she hadn't, everything would have been spoiled, for nothing. She would have been thwarted. Instead, the way had been illuminated, the obstacles pointed out. She had had to wait for what was foretold, her opposition, and then she had to effectively remove it.

She had thought of the prophecy every day since, watching and waiting for the signs.

She kept close, both to Haddora and Kyrria and their neighbors. She traveled to Kyrria as its 500th anniversary drew near. She had been making her way along the border, keeping a low profile, when she heard the first news of the pregnancy of the queen.

The events had simply fallen into place. The baby was born on the last of the 499th, a girl. The only girl born to a king of one of the five kingdoms in ten years.

When the time was right, she struck. The baby with the strange eyes would never grow up to thwart her plans. The child would never meet a wanderer, as the prophecy foretold, and they would never unite to ruin everything.

The playing pieces were on the board, and she had the advantage.

Now all she had to do was keep them there, and she would not be stopped.

* * *

_**Sometimes I wonder if I'm getting too detailed. My imagination is insane; I seriously can't control it. :P Additionally, I definitely feel like there hasn't been enough romance yet, but that part is coming up. I'm really impatient to get there!_

_Btw, I DO consider Nora the main character - this is more her story than anyone else's. She comes more into play in what I consider to be Act II - this chapter being the conclusion of Act I. Does that make sense?_

_Thanks goes to Steph for being a trooper and reading though this + the next few chapters._

_Extra thanks to those who added this story to alerts/favorites! You guys are awesome.**_


	8. Fifteen Years Later

_**Thanks so much for the adds/reviews! They always make my day._

_This chapter, especially, I am excited about. I had so much fun writing it :D_

_It's another long one - I got carried away. You have been warned.****  
**_

* * *

**8 - FIFTEEN YEARS LATER**

In the cool, shady glade of a deep forest, there was a small cottage. A girl lived there with an old woman. It had a thatched roof and wooden shutters painted apple red. The girl had done that in the quiet, determined way that she had about her. One day she had been lying in the tall grass on her stomach, daydreaming, but also mostly hiding from the old woman: her guardian, Gladys. She had been able to see the little cottage in the distance from her spot in the grass, and the more she had looked upon it, the more sad and dilapidated it seemed. Thus, she made a resolution, and the next day she tackled the shutters with the red paint. It only marginally helped brighten the exterior of the shabby cottage, but the girl believed that the little things counted the most.

Gladys had been to market, and when she returned she barely glanced at the shutters before retreating inside. It was only later, over their meager meal by candlelight, that Gladys had inquired where the girl had gotten her hands on red paint.

"Where did you get the paint?"

"I found it . . . in the old shed. There are so many odds and ends in there. . ."

"I don't believe you. Where did you get the paint? Tell me the truth or I'll have you scrubbing out that shed tomorrow."

Ana, the girl, stuck to her story. "I told you. I found it in the shed." Her spoon was poised halfway between her bowl and her mouth. She did not move, but stared back at Gladys stubbornly.

"Fine, if that's how you want it. Make sure you clean that shed top to bottom. I want to see my face in every surface." Gladys went back to studiously munching on her food and ignoring Ana, just like every other night.

Ana bit her lip. She was a horrible liar, but Gladys could never know her secret. There was no telling what the woman would do with the information.

The truth was, Ana had only found _white_ paint in the shed, leftover from whitewashing the cottage.

She had turned it red. Not by material means, not by adding something to the paint physically; she had turned it red using her _gift_.

She called it so because that's what she felt it was. A few years ago, she had been nothing but an orphan, a peasant, an old woman's helper (which is what Gladys referred to her as: "Oh, that's Ana, my helper," she would say; never mind that Ana had always felt more like her servant).

And then, one day, she had made Gladys's favorite vase reassemble itself.

It was all an accident. She had been sweeping the floor of the cottage. Gladys had been off on another one of her errands, so Ana had been dancing around the room with the broom, pretending she was at one of the king's fetes. She imagined herself in an elegant satin gown, maybe green or blue, with flowers in her hair. Everyone was admiring her graceful dancing . . . and then her elbow had knocked into the vase, the one Gladys had gotten from an Elvish potter. It had fallen to the floor with an ear-splitting crash, pieces flying everywhere.

Ana had stared at the broken bits, tears filling her eyes. Gladys would be furious, and would probably banish her from the cottage. As punishment, Ana would be forced to either sleep in the shed with the mice and spiders or cozy up under some tree.

She hated how clumsy she was. She was always breaking things and tripping over things, even her own feet. Her emotion filled her. She stared at the vase, hating it, hating Gladys, hating everything. . .

A normal person would have exploded in an angry tirade or harsh, throbbing sobs. Ana was not normal.

She felt a tingling sensation in her chest, near her heart. Her gaze felt locked on the pieces of the vase. She blinked.

The pieces picked themselves up off the floor, swirling and fitting together, until an unsullied vase was sitting on the floor in place of where the broken shards had been.

She had stood there blinking and gaping for a long time. Then she gingerly picked up the vase, tapping it with her fingernail, feeling for cracks with her hands. She could find none. It was as good as new.

Ever since that day and that discovery, she felt like she had something _more_ to give, something _more _to do with her life. She felt like there were possibilities, a life beyond what she knew: a ramshackle cottage near a tiny village in the foothills of the mountains, never-ending chores, and constant drudgery.

So she tried out her gift, and she practiced. When alone, she made small objects float around the room. She made animals talk to her when she was lonely. She made pictures in the sky, shaping clouds to her liking.

It was a gift, and it was totally her secret. She didn't even tell Raven.

Raven was a boy she had known almost since before she could remember. He was the blacksmith's apprentice in the village some miles through the forest. Raven wasn't his real name; nobody knew what that was. He, like Ana, was a foundling.

When Raven was quite young, the blacksmith, Barton, had encountered him wandering through the forest alone. He had possessed nothing but the clothing on his back. He couldn't remember his own name, let alone where he had come from. Barton had taken one look at him, and before anyone knew it, he had started the little boy as an apprentice in his shop. Barton began calling him Raven, for his hair was as black as a raven's wing. Barton was a big, kind man with no family of his own. He took Raven in practically as his own son.

At first people had only whispered about him. Soon, though, he gained their trust. No one could help but like him. He was usually whistling some made-up tune, and he always had a smile ready. He was also eager and hard-working, traits that were highly prized in a struggling peasant village.

He and Ana had met when Gladys had taken Ana shopping with her in the village, mostly to carry the goods that they purchased. Gladys became occupied, bickering with a farmer about the price of his stunted corn, and Ana had wandered off.

As usual, Ana had been staring at something that caught her attention, not watching her feet or where she was going. It wasn't surprising that she ran into someone, literally. That 'someone' just happened to be Raven.

At first they had both scowled at each other, rubbing their foreheads. Both had lumps forming from where they had knocked heads. Then Raven began to smile. He had always been an unfailingly polite boy, born of trying to ingratiate himself as anything but an outsider, so he was trying to hold it back. Just the corners of his lips turned up, but his dimples betrayed him. Ana looked so comical, sitting in a cloud of dust, scowling grumpily, her dark hair a wild mess. Ana undoubtedly had a similar view of Raven, but he emanated friendliness. It was catching. She began to smile, too, though she tried to keep scowling. This was even more comical to Raven, and his mirth escaped and bubbled out of his mouth. A beat had barely skipped before her laughter joined his.

Ever since that day and their collision in the street, they had been as thick as thieves.

Gladys had never really approved of Ana having friends, and had always tried to keep her at the cottage and working as much as possible. Barton, however, encouraged their friendship, and he helped their cause by shoeing Gladys's old mule for free whenever needed. Thus bribed, Gladys let the friendship continue.

When she could get away from Gladys, Ana met Raven in the forest on Sunday, his day off. On those days their freedom was sweet. They would travel all of the old paths together, visiting favorite, familiar places: the apple grove, the lake, the pasture.

Sometimes Barton would give Raven the day off during the week, and he would come to the cottage. Sometimes that meant being put to work by Gladys, but he never seemed to mind. He was Ana's best friend; her only friend.

For Raven's part, he didn't have many friends either. Barton kept him busy at the shop, and when he wasn't there he was with Ana. She was different from most people, especially anyone from the village, and he liked that. She was more thoughtful and open-minded. She wasn't silly and always giggling over something like most of the maidens he knew, though she did appreciate a good joke and was rather fond of playing tricks on Gladys.

Ana could talk about anything under the sun with Raven, and she did. It was one of her habits to speak whatever she imagined out loud to him in her musical, quiet way, until his head was full of her crazy, wonderful ideas.

"Raven, wouldn't it be magnificent if we could fly? If we could just step into the air and soar anywhere we like? I wonder what the clouds look like up close? What if flying was like swimming, except in the air?"

. . . "Gladys banished me again for spilling sugar all over the floor, so when I slept in the shed, I pretended it was my real home and that _I_ had banished _Gladys_ to the cottage."

. . . "Raven, look at these branches I found! Let's build a boat and sail down the lake. Or make a fort. Or build a ladder so we can finally climb that tall oak tree. What if we could build one that would become any length we wanted, just by willing it? We could climb even higher than the tree. We could climb a mountain. It sounds silly, but in my head it looks amazing."

She was full of ideas, and she never seemed to run out. Often her thoughts bordered on fantasy. Raven always tried to find ways to put her ideas into action, to ground them in reality.

"If we get to the top of that oak, I think it _would_ feel like flying. We would be much closer to the sky, anyway."

. . . "Maybe you should just live in the shed? Then you wouldn't have to deal with Gladys so much, and you could have a little peace. You don't mind mice, after all. I could help you fix it up."

. . . "I've got plenty of twine. Let's build the ladder."

* * *

The only secret Ana ever kept from Raven was the existence of her power. In those days, in that region, magic was falling out of fashion. Witches were distrusted; fairies were feared. A woman with such an identity was especially vulnerable to suspicion and stigma. If she was smart, she kept quiet about it. Ana was no exception.

In blissful ignorance of her one huge omission, Raven kept nothing from Ana. Between them, a bond existed that was unshakeable. It grew up from the shoots of childhood, from youth and sharing all that it entailed. That special brand of innocence cemented it. That was why, as these things will inevitably go, their friendship shifted when they started to get older.

More and more girls were noticing Raven, and to Ana, this was infuriating. They had never noticed him in years past, when he was skinny and scrawny and his ears were too big for his head. Ana thought these village girls, these silly geese, were all shallow ninnies with no imagination, who couldn't see a good thing unless it came in an attractive package. She had always liked Raven because he was good, inside and out. It didn't matter what he looked like. He could have had horns and a pig snout and she wouldn't have cared.

He didn't have either. His features were perfectly regular, his eyes a clear, bright hazel: amber and gold and green. His black hair hung down in his face. He always looked like he needed a haircut, but it also looked a little devil-may-care, which, to his credit, he never intended.

Added to this, he filled out, and his ears, though they would always remain a mite too large, managed to stop growing long enough for the rest of his features to catch up. He shot up at least two feet, making it imperative that he duck every time he came to call at the cottage so as to avoid hitting his forehead on the lintel. He towered over Ana, who had once stood at his eye-level. Where they had once been evenly matched in strength, now he could beat her every single time they arm-wrestled.

These things were infuriating to Ana. She was his equal in every other way; it wasn't fair. She consoled herself with the fact that, despite all of his gains, she could still out-run him.

Maybe that was where the trouble began: his graduation from awkward young boy to mysterious youth with unstudied good looks.

Still, it was the sighing and the staring and the incessant _giggling_ of the girls and maidens in the village that made Ana want to throttle someone; _them_, more specifically. She reined in this urge, and also other, slightly less violent ones that involved using her gift in sneaky ways. She always imagined one of them tripping (with nothing to trip over in sight) and knocking into the next, and then the next and the next, falling like toppling trees in quick succession. They were always congregating together and whispering behind their hands; this choice scenario was nothing if not plausible.

She never did anything. It felt slightly too mean. They never bothered Ana - or talked to her or noticed her, for that matter, but then again, she had never bothered with them.

"Just ignore them. I do," Raven would say as they walked into the village, passing a cluster of girls who immediately started giggling and whispering as he passed.

"How can you ignore them? They're _everywhere_! Must they always hang around the smithy? You'd think that they'd have something better to do."

"I never pay them any attention. The only girl who's going to catch my notice is one who won't giggle at every word I say," Raven assured her indifferently. He fell back into whistling to himself as he loped along at her side.

She believed him. They kept on as they always had, their easy friendship never faltering.

Until, that is, he began acting strange.

He would come to see her at the cottage, like always . . . but he would barely say a word. She would talk and talk, as usual, and he would give her one-word answers. More often than not, he would stare broodingly into the trees.

"Raven - Have you heard a word I've been saying?"

"What? Oh, I'm sorry . . . I was just thinking. . ." He trailed into silence.

"What were you thinking?"

"Well . . . I . . . - er, nothing. It's nothing."

She would prod him and try to get it out of him. He would blush, mumble some excuse about getting back to the village, and then he would be gone and she would be left in complete bewilderment.

Eventually he stopped coming around as often as he once did. She started wondering if it was something she had said or done, or if maybe he was growing tired of her.

Worst of all was something she didn't even want to consider . . . but it crossed her mind anyway, tormenting her. What if he fancied some maiden in the village and he was trying to find a way to tell her, to confide in her? She had, after all, commented on their apparent lack of brains numerous times. Maybe Raven was afraid Ana would be derisive of his choice?

Quite possibly she wasn't giving him enough credit, but she could see him falling for one of the village girls: someone sweet and pretty and empty-headed, someone who would dote on him, someone with perfectly coiffed locks and a flirtatious smile. Ana had never cared before, but maybe the thought of all of the comely maidens that Raven crossed paths with in the village was why she began examining her reflection in random windowpanes, despairing at what she saw: her uncontrollable hair, her childish-looking freckles, the disproportion of her features. Thus disappointed in how she measured up, she made an effort to brush her hair, to stay out of the dirt and keep her gown neat . . . but, inevitably, she would spy a rare bird in the grass, or some similar distraction, and would end up as unkempt as she always was without realizing how it had happened. Then, as if on a cue, Raven would arrive, laughing at her wild hair, tugging on the ends of the long strands and teasing for all he was worth.

She would always laugh with him and tease him back, but secretly she felt forlorn in a way that she didn't quite understand. Questions ran through her mind, endless questions. What did she want? Why was her appearance so important all of a sudden? Did she want Raven to notice her in that _other_ way? She wasn't sure. One thing she _was_ sure of, however, was that the village girls weren't good enough for him. She ached at the thought of him carrying a secret torch for one of them.

Then Raven would eventually lapse into his silence, and Ana would try in vain to make him come around. She teased him; she made jokes. He would smile for her sake, but soon enough the false grin would melt from his face and he would resume his brooding demeanor. She tried not to let this bother her. She always tried to content herself with sitting beside him in what she hoped was companionable silence.

One day, they were sitting together in just such a fashion. She was concentrated on making a daisy chain, linking the flowers together one by one.

All of a sudden, he reached out and grasped her hand. She stilled instantly. He was looking at her hand with a frustrated expression. She furrowed her brow at him, waiting for him to speak.

He cleared his throat, turning her hand over. He appeared to examine it for a minute, then looked up at her, meeting her eyes. His gaze was intense. She felt her heart flutter. She barely understood what was going on.

He didn't say anything. He dropped her hand, looking away. "It's getting late. I'd better go."

"All right," she said. She felt extremely warm, though the air was getting chill with the setting sun. She watched him as he gradually disappeared from her sight into the trees. At the last second, he turned and waved. She could just barely see him. She waved back, feeling odd.

_Why_ was he acting so strange? She thought about it endlessly, and it drove her crazy. The worst part was, had it been anyone else, she wouldn't have cared, wouldn't have let it get to her so much. She never would have worked herself into such a frenzy over anyone else. Raven, however, was different. She cared about what he thought, what he did, what he wanted; she cared about what he saw in her. He had always been content being around her before. _What happened?_

She knew another thing for certain. She didn't want them to grow apart; she hated the distance between them and wanted desperately to set things right, for things to go back to how they had always been: easy and fun.

But all of her attempts to draw him out of his moods didn't work, and Raven only seemed to be staying away from her more and more. . . Until one day, when she set out on a Sunday to meet him in the woods, like they had done every week since they were five or six.

She arrived at the spot where they usually met. She waited and waited.

He never showed.

She walked home slowly, barely seeing the scenery around her. She tried not to, but couldn't help but let a few tears fall.

She didn't understand.

* * *

Raven kept himself busy with the menial chores he had set himself, trying not to think about Ana. Barton had commented in passing that it was Sunday and Raven had no business being anywhere near the shop, but Raven had ignored him.

Something was off. Lately, something didn't feel quite right about his friendship with Ana, though heck if he could put his finger on what it was.

When he would visit her in the forest, she would talk of the things on her mind, tell him anecdotes about Gladys, or make up stories for his amusement, like always. Raven found himself growing impatient with her, though, which was a feeling that he didn't like, but yet couldn't help. Didn't conversation with her always improve his mood, her quiet voice soothing to his ears? Didn't he love that he alone was privy to the workings of her mind?

Despite all that, he found himself listening carefully to Ana's words, searching out something that wasn't there, something he did not even know the name of. Its absence rankled him, but worse was the fact that he had no idea what he was looking for. He began brooding on it. She noticed his odd moods, because it was not like him at all. Usually Ana was the one who grew contemplative and lost in her thoughts. Usually Raven was the one who would have to draw her out, to make her smile and forget herself.

It was not lost on either of them how strange this reversal of roles was, and how unsettling. The calm of their long friendship was upset, and both floundered to find familiar footing again.

Despite the upset, Raven could not let go of what he was searching for in Ana. There was something missing that he wanted. _What_ was it? It got to the point where even the sight of his dear friend walking to meet him through the forest, her messy braid coming undone and her beautiful eyes brightening when they fell upon him, was enough to make his stomach knot up and his muscles tense. He recognized this new emotion, but tried to laugh it off. Nervous? About seeing Ana, who he had known since they were small children? Who had seen him wet his pants from laughing so hard, who had been with him when he broke his arm, who alone knew how he felt about his missing memories? She alone could sympathize. Perhaps this was the cord that had bound them together all through the years, their mutual understanding of the word _lost_.

Time had only woven the fabric of their lives tighter together. Raven knew her face like the back of his hand. He could draw a map of her freckles; he could describe the shape of the scar she had gotten when she had fallen from a tree when she was eight. He alone knew how best to make her laugh, how to tame her unbridled mind, how to avoid making her angry.

Nervousness, after all of that? Ridiculous, he scoffed. Laughable. Impossible . . .

Raven was not used to so many conflicting emotions. His wont was to go through life meeting each obstacle with a cheerful smile and a willingness to puzzle it out. This, however, was beyond him. He had no easy answer, and could think of none, though he wracked his brain. He was not used to being so thwarted. His sunny disposition usually made choices simple and any deep contemplation unnecessary. The situation with Ana, therefore, left him completely out of his element, at a loss.

He started to stay away from her, though it pained him to do it. He knew she would be hurt and confused, but he was all in a jumble for once in his life, and he could find no way out. He missed her something awful, but until he could come to some sort of conclusion, there was nothing for it.

The solution was obvious to everyone but Raven. Barton, especially, saw the signs and smiled to himself knowingly.

Raven was in love.

* * *

Raven sat idly, staring at a spot on the wall. Sometimes he couldn't help drifting. If he held his feelings in check for too long, eventually the dam would break. Thoughts would flood in, and he would let them. He sighed deeply. Love always has two sides: absolute joy and absolute misery.

All of a sudden, he heard murmurs from the front room: Ana's low voice talking to Barton.

"-Where is he? I need to talk to him."

"Hmmm. He's in the back room. He didn't tell me why he never went out today. I think you may have to force it out of him; he's been very taciturn lately." Barton sounded mildly concerned.

"Oh, I'll force it out of him, all right." Ana's voice was grim. Raven winced, bracing himself.

She burst into the room, pulling up short at the sight of him. He wondered how he looked, if the despair he felt was plainly written on his face. The anger on _her_ face flickered with worry, but then went back to anger. She stared at him for what seemed like hours, and then, without warning, her face crumpled. She covered it with her hands and turned right around, hurrying from the room. Alarmed, he got up and ran after her.

She was not in the front room. The door still hung partially open from where she had made her exit.

"Barton, where-?"

Barton merely pointed, and Raven followed the direction. She had gone out to the stable.

He crossed the yard. He cautiously approached the small building, then peeked inside. Her back was turned. She was leaning against a stall, staring at one of the mares and its foal. He heard her sniffle.

"Ana . . . "

She whirled to face him. Her eyes were still wet and shiny.

"I don't understand," she said quietly.

He opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He held out his hands, supplicating. He could find no words. Only one could suffice, for now.

"Sorry." It came out very rough and almost strangled, but it was the best he could do. She only stared at him, and he realized how much he had hurt her. He realized that he had only been thinking of himself. Worse, he had known his actions would hurt her, but he had carried on anyway. He tried again.

"I'm . . . so very sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. Well, scratch that, I _wasn't_ thinking. Not about you, anyway. I was only thinking about me."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I . . . well, I have a lot on my mind, and I guess I just . . . let Sunday slip? Ugh, it sounds awful when I say it like that. There's really no excuse for my behavior. I've been a ridiculous, self-centered dolt." His hand went up to his temple to rake through his hair, making it stand on end.

Ana wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. He looked like an idiot. He _was_ an idiot. "Stop. I know you've been . . . preoccupied. I'm not blind; I've noticed. I just wish you would _tell_ me instead of keeping it to yourself . . . Can't you just tell me what's wrong? . . . Is it anything _I_ have done?"

Raven hadn't realized that he had been so obvious. He should have known that she would see through whatever facade that he tried to put up. What's more, she thought he had a problem with _her_. This pained him. Yes, he loved her . . .

Wait. _He loved her._

He felt like he had just been knocked over the head. He had never understood himself so clearly. All of his tangled emotions, all of Barton's knowing looks and nudges, and most of all, the way he measured every other girl against Ana . . . It was because she was the standard. She was the one.

. . . And she was oblivious to nothing but that one fact. Yes, it hurt him to be near her, loving but not loved in return, but it wasn't her fault. It all became clear in one marvelous instant. In that moment, he stepped over a line. He would stay there and wait for her to cross it, too.

Raven looked at Ana, at the face he could read so well. Her expression was full of trust, and at the same time, offered it. He knew it was only her trust in their friendship, her trust in him as her best friend. He couldn't tell her, not now, not yet.

"Ana, this is entirely on me. Please believe me when I say that you've done nothing wrong. I can't . . . I can't explain right now . . . but I _will_, when I'm ready. I promise you that."

She looked ready to argue, but then stopped herself. She sighed, and her expression softened.

"I suppose I can live with that . . . if you still want to be my friend, that is." Her eyes avoided his. Her fingers toyed with the end of her braid, something she did unconsciously when she was nervous.

He hated how uncertain she looked. He hated that he had caused this.

"I'll _always_ want to be friends, Ana. Never, ever doubt that, even when I'm being an oaf. You know how important you are to me. I've just been an insufferable loner, lately, that's all."

She looked up, a tiny, wavering smile hovering on her lips. He realized she was trying to hold back more tears. He felt a pang. This was important. She rarely ever cried, and this was twice in one day.

"Do you _promise?_" Her voice was more vulnerable than he had ever heard it before. It dawned on him, then: she _needed_ him. Maybe not in the exact way that he wanted, but it was still there. He wasn't just her best friend, he was essential to her in some way. He allowed his hope to surge up in him. He would build on this.

He stepped forward quickly, closing the space between them, hugging her tightly. Being close to her, the fact that it meant two things to him (love and friendship) and only one to her (friendship) hurt him, but he did it for her.

"I promise."

* * *

_**So, I wanted to establish these characters and the state of their relationship before I moved on with the main plot____ (Or, I got caught up in writing some angsty romance when I should have been writing a research paper. . .)__ In the next couple of chapters, things will slowly tie together (at least, that's what I'm hoping).****  
**_


	9. Secrets and Discoveries

**9 - SECRETS AND DISCOVERIES**

Their friendship on firmer footing, Ana and Raven went on as they always had. The only difference was, each of them felt that a significant change had occurred. Things were the same, but yet, they weren't. It was almost like the sameness was just an illusion, a hazy cover for what was really going on underneath: the truth, the bare-bones reality.

In a sense, each of them was pretending for the sake of the other.

Raven was pretending that he did not feel anything more than friendship for Ana, because he thought that she did not and would not ever care for him in any other way. For her part, Ana was pretending that she was perfectly content with nothing ever changing. The truth was, she longed for change, but not if that meant losing Raven.

So time went on, but it did not get any easier.

Events larger than the both of them would soon crack the fragile shell of the illusion, but not before they were both tested in ways that they never could have imagined.

* * *

Ana turned her head slightly so that she could peek at Raven out of the corner of her eye. He was slightly hidden by clumps of grass, though he was only about a foot away. He was softly whistling a wandering tune, low and quiet. They both were lying on their backs, watching clouds float past in a dreamy blue sky.

She turned her head an inch further, only to catch him doing the same thing to her; in fact, his actions almost mirrored her own. Both were flat on their backs, but both had their heads cocked slightly, peering sneakily at the other. He stopped whistling. There was an aura of utter awkwardness that surrounded them for a moment, and they both felt it, but it was part of the reality that they were ignoring. He raised his eyebrows at her, and then they both started smiling, she in a sheepish way. At this, he burst out laughing. The weird moment had passed as quickly as it had come. She reached out her arm and shoved him, which made him roll to the side a little, still laughing.

"You're hopeless," she said, smiling. "Once you get started, there's no stopping you."

"I can't help it. Laughter only causes more laughter, you know. It's contagious."

She turned her head to really look at him. His face was red, and as soon as he caught her eye he burst into a fresh round.

Gladys's voice came shouting at them faintly from the path near the cottage. "Quiet out there! I can hear you two from a mile away!"

Ana sat up, squinting in the direction of the old woman's voice. She could just barely make

out the stooped figure, a gray blot in the distance.

"I have an errand to run! You had better finish that chopping before I get back, young lady, or else!"

Sure enough, Ana could make out a basket on Gladys's arm. She was probably taking one of her concoctions to a client. The villagers paid her well for her various tinctures and ointments, which were widely known for their effectiveness for all manner of ailments.

Ana waved one arm to let Gladys know that she had heard, then plopped down in the grass again with a little huff.

"I don't know what you're so put out about. I'm the one who's been doing most of the chopping, anyway," Raven reminded her.

Ana stuck out her tongue at him. Chopping wood was her least favorite chore. She was incredibly clumsy with the axe. She always tried to get Raven to complete the task for her. He usually complied with grace, especially when she bribed him with little cakes. She baked them for just such a purpose; they were his favorite. He always took three or four and stuffed them in his pockets.

He produced one just at that moment, seemingly from mid-air, and proceeded to eat it in two bites.

"I wonder, do you come here for my excellent company or my excellent baking?" Ana teased.

"Why, the baking, of course."

Ana's hand swiped at the air near his head, missing it by inches as he ducked, smirking impishly.

"So violent! Now, Ana, is that any way for a lady to behave?" His face took on an expression of mock sternness, his lips pinched and his eyebrows drawn up.

Now she was the one to laugh, burying her head between her knees to stifle the sound.

Shaking his head and chuckling, Raven wiped his hands down his shirt-front, ridding them of any stray crumbs, and then flipped over, resting on his elbows. He pulled a little wooden whistle from his pocket, turning it in his hands before putting it to his mouth and playing a few notes. He turned to Ana, and the notes changed into her favorite little tune.

She watched him, sobering. The music sounded like the sad warbling of a little bird. "What made you come up with that one?" she interrupted.

He stopped playing. "What do you mean?"

She flushed. When he looked at her like that, intense and still, she felt suddenly self-conscious. "I mean... it's so sad and lovely... what were you thinking of, when you made it up?"

He looked down at the little instrument in his hands. The light wood had darkened from being handled so often. There were tiny, intricate carvings of trees and mountains along its side. Two tiny owls were carved there, too, perched in a minuscule tree.

"I don't know," he said softly. "I guess my parents."

Ana sighed. She knew how he was feeling all too well.

"This is all I had with me when Barton found me. The clothes I was wearing, and this whistle in my pocket."

"I know."

"It's all I have of that other life, that world that I can't even remember."

"Have you ever thought that, just maybe, it could be a clue about where you're from?"

"Yes, though it hasn't done me any good. Unfortunately, there isn't any inscription or writing on it at all. Just these forests and mountains, and as far as I know, they could be depicting this country, where we are right now."

Ana sat up, scooting closer to him. She held out her hand, and he dropped the whistle into her palm. He had let her handle it many times before. The little carvings were very familiar to her, but she re-examined them anyway. She held the whistle up to her face. "Maybe these owls have some significance." She touched their little forms with her index finger. They were less than half the size of her nail. Whoever had carved them had been very adept with their knife.

"Believe me, I've thought about this more than almost anything else. I've considered every meaning possible. The truth of it is, one tiny whistle is not enough to give me any inkling as to why I was left alone in the forest." He held out his hand, and she gave him back the instrument.

She frowned at him for a second. "At least you have a memento, a token. At least you _know_ you came from somewhere else. I don't have anything."

He scrambled up from where he lay on his stomach, moving to sit next to her with his knees drawn up. He looked at her for a second, then pushed his shoulder into hers. It was his way of saying, _I know. I'm sorry._ She felt slightly comforted, which was his intention. They both were silent for awhile, thinking.

"You know," he spoke suddenly, "what if there _was_ something? Have you ever asked?"

She only looked at him incredulously.

"I'm serious. You know Gladys. Maybe there was something, and she just never thought to tell you," Raven said, eagerness seeping into his voice. He got excited so easily.

"Are we thinking of the same person, here? This is _Gladys_ we're talking of, not some sweet old lady who took me in out of the goodness of her heart. She was practically forced to raise me. Anyway, Gladys doesn't care about me that way; she doesn't tell me anything, but she doesn't withhold anything from me either. If I need to know, even if it might hurt me, she tells me."

"That's what I'm saying, though. _Need_ to know. You wouldn't necessarily need to know that you were left with some little object from your other life. You were just a baby, after all."

Ana frowned. "I honestly... I never even _considered_..."

Raven jumped to his feet. He held out his hand to Ana, who stared up at him as if he was crazy.

"Come on. We're going to do a little snooping."

She stayed seated. He reached down, impatiently grabbing her hand and pulling her up.

"Raven, we can't! Do you know how long I would have to sleep in the shed if she caught us?"

"Relax. We won't get caught. She practically just left; she'll be gone for awhile. Come _on_." He marched through the grass toward the cottage, determined. Ana stood still, helplessly watching. Raven turned around, motioning for her to hurry up.

She glanced nervously at the forest, and then back at him. He started pantomiming a chicken, flapping his elbows.

She glared at him, and then marched past him resolutely toward the cottage. Laughing to himself, he followed her.

* * *

"I told you, Raven, there isn't anything."

Raven looked up from where he was crouched in a corner, dust smudged on his face. He looked perplexed.

"I can't explain it, but I have a _feeling_. There's something here, I know it."

Ana sighed, sitting heavily on a wooden bench near the window. They had been looking for well over half an hour. Considering the cottage had only two rooms and the small loft where Ana slept, there weren't many places to look, let alone keep secrets hidden.

"I think we should just give up before Gladys returns and we're caught red-handed."

Raven didn't answer, and instead knelt down to run his hands over the floorboards.

"What are you doing?"

"Barton has a secret hiding-place under some floorboards in his shop. Maybe the spot isn't quite as original as he thought?"

Ana froze. A sudden memory came back to her. She was a little girl, maybe seven or eight. Gladys was in her tiny bedroom. The door was open a crack, and Ana had been peeking through, spying. She had watched as her guardian moved aside the rickety bed and reached for a notch in one of the boards on the floor. It had lifted up, revealing a small hole. Gladys had stuffed her hand inside. In her excitement at discovering a secret, Ana had leaned into the door, and it creaked loudly as it moved half an inch. She had flinched as Gladys whipped around, discovering her there. She had been punished soundly for that, and had never dared to set foot in Gladys's room again.

"Raven." Her voice echoed her shock. _What were the odds?_

He looked up at her. She spoke wonderingly. "I know where to look."

* * *

Raven moved the bed aside, which was easy enough, as there were no other pieces of furniture in the room. What proved to be harder was finding the notch for the right board. The cottage itself was extremely old, and the floor wasn't in good shape. There were many notches and knots and warped spots in the wood, and soon both Ana and Raven were on their hands and knees, searching. The light was dimming with the setting sun, and both felt that their time was almost up.

Finally, Ana found a notch that she could just slip her index finger under. She pulled up, and the wood gave.

"Raven!"

He immediately scrambled to her side, helping her jimmy the wood out of its place in the floor when it got stuck.

The hole underneath was small, but there were various items inside of it: a small cloth bag tied with string, a little leather-bound book, a jar with some kind of strange, sticky substance inside of it, and, just barely visible at the bottom, a little bit of what looked like a bundle of cloth.

Ana carefully pulled out each item, setting them on the floor between herself and Raven. She didn't need to further inspect the cloth bag to know what was inside of it: money. She had seen Gladys with it earlier, herself. She set it aside without a second glance. She pulled out the jar next, gingerly handing it to Raven, making a face. He held it up to his eyes to get a better look, sniffing at the lid. He quickly put it down, wrinkling his nose. The book was next. Ana wiped the cover with her sleeve, revealing its true color under the dust: forest green. She flipped through it, discovering that it was also printed with green ink. Unfortunately, it was in some kind of language that she had never seen before. She handed it to Raven.

"Ana, look at this!"

He had flipped open the little book to a random page, and on this page was a strange illustration. A beautiful woman stood in the center of a crowd of people, a light radiating from her and around her. The people in the picture were shielding their eyes.

"I wish I knew what language this is," Ana said, pointing at the caption under the illustration. The characters were strange; none of them looked remotely like the alphabet, nor the alphabets of any of the more common languages.

"It's too bad we can't study it further. Gladys would know if it was missing, wouldn't she?"

"Are you kidding? We have to put everything back exactly as we found it. She'll know we were snooping around if there is even a particle of dust out of place. In fact..." She took the book back from Raven, and, using her fingers, re-smudged the cover with dust.

"There," she said, satisfied. Raven only shook his head at her with bemusement.

Finally, Ana plucked the last item from the bottom of the hole: the bundle of cloth. At first glance, it appeared to be just a bunch of rags, but Ana rubbed the material between her fingers experimentally.

"Raven, feel how soft this is! It doesn't feel like ordinary home-spun."

"Definitely not; look how closely woven the fibers are. What color would you say this is?"

"I can't really tell; it's too filthy from being in that dusty hole."

"Is it all one piece? Here, help me spread it out..."

Together, they unfolded the cloth, which was indeed very dirty from where it had been exposed to the dust and dirt of the hole, but as they spread it out, they noticed that the center, which had been folded in on itself, was in very good shape. In fact...

"Look! It's lavender. It almost looks like new in that spot. Wait, what's this-?"

Raven fingered the cloth, squinting at something. Ana joined him. They both smoothed it, removing the wrinkles that had obscured what was embroidered in the center in swirling script:

_E. R._

"Ana... I think this is a blanket. An _expensive_ blanket. And I think... I think these are initials." He touched the intricate letters, marked out in slightly darker lavender thread than the soft, heavy cloth. "It's not just any kind of blanket, though."

Ana looked up at him, and his expression was excited.

"It looks like a baby blanket."


	10. In the Woods

_**This chapter is late because, quite frankly, I forgot to post it. It's the final two weeks of school, and it is officially kicking my butt. If you're in college, you'll understand :)**_

* * *

**10 - IN THE WOODS**

Two people traversed down a lonesome, dusty road.

The man was taller. He had freckles, which made him appear more youthful than he really was. They stood out sharply, now, the strange light playing tricks with his coloring. The woman was slight, and in the gloom of the trees her long hair appeared as dark as midnight. They were heavily cloaked, hoods drawn up. In fact, anyone passing them on the road would have mistaken them for a couple of shadows.

The man kept one hand at the woman's waist as they walked, the other resting on the hilt of the short sword that was hidden under his cloak. The woman kept glancing behind her. She nervously looked up at her companion. He squeezed her waist reassuringly.

Abruptly, they turned off the road. The man scanned the perimeter, but no one was in sight. They turned into the trees, their feet barely making any noise as they tramped through grass and weeds. The man stopped at some overgrowth and moved aside, pushing the bracken out of the woman's way so she could step through. She disappeared into the creeping darkness of the forest, and he quickly followed.

* * *

Deep in the crowded dimness of the trees, a wagon was parked inconspicuously, partially hidden by branches and brush. The place appeared long abandoned. The ring of stones that had marked where the campfire had been now only encircled a dwindling pile of ash.

A figure moved in the shadows, and then emerged out of the trees, stopping in front of the wagon. It was a young man, not quite fully grown, tall of stature, with piercing green eyes and a shock of dark hair. Not long after his appearance, another young man came through the trees, riding a plodding mare. His unruly curls flopped onto his forehead with her unsteady gait. He appeared older than the first, with an air of authority that immediately marked him as a leader. He dismounted gracefully.

"Mother and Father haven't returned, then," he remarked, removing the reins from his mount and tying them to the wagon. He patted the horse's flank, then retreated to sit by a wheel, uncorking a canteen and taking a long drink.

"Shhh. Quiet," the first said. He appeared to be listening. The second could hear nothing but the silence of the woods. A bird called in the distance, a lonely sound.

"David, what-?"

"Shhh!" David leaned forward, tilting his ear toward whatever it was he heard. Abruptly, he moved from where he was standing, trotting into the trees, disappearing from sight. His companion stood, his brows drawn with confusion, and then-

"Jerry?"

The confusion was wiped clean from his face as he recognized the voice of his mother calling him. He hurried forward just as three people came through the brush. David and a taller, older man each held the hand of a woman, helping her pick her way through the trees and bracken. Her green eyes came alive at the sight of her eldest son, who was the spitting image of the older man: Char, his father. She rushed forward to embrace him.

"Oh, I was so worried when we had to split up - I didn't think we would all be together again so soon."

"We promised, didn't we? Here we are, two weeks later, as planned. Really, Mother, you should have more faith in us."

"I know, but I can't help worrying." Her intelligent gaze took in the surroundings. "Where are the twins? And Mandy?"

"They're not far behind. Mandy wanted to take a detour to gather some sort of plant that grows not far from the river. Apparently, it's rather rare."

Char had been talking to David in a low voice, and now he moved forward to clap Jerry on the back.

"Good to see you, son. I see you've managed to acquire a horse. Will she be able to pull the wagon?"

"She looks useless, I know, but she has really proved to be a steady mount. I think she'll do." The horse, whom he had affectionately started calling Sally, had actually outrun a small band of ogres not two days ago, but Jerry didn't think his parents needed to know _that_ little piece of information.

Near the wagon, Ella was examining a cut on David's cheek, _tsk_-ing and shaking her head.

"It will heal just fine, but you must be more careful, Davy." David winced slightly as his mother affectionately reverted to his childhood nickname, which he had insisted they all drop as soon as he hit puberty. Ella smiled at his reaction, grasping his chin in her small hand and giving his head a playful shake. "I'm sorry, David. I, of all people, should know how you feel. When I was your age, everyone was still hell-bent on called me _Eleanor_."

"If I recall right, I think you hated being called _Your Excellency_ more than Eleanor." Char grinned at the memory, and Ella rolled her eyes.

David shrugged, letting it go, but he did not smile as he normally would have done in response. His eyes were distant. Ella frowned as she took in his mood. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?" Her voice lost all of its playful candor as worry took over her features again.

"Nothing, Mother. Everything is fine. Here, come sit down; you look exhausted. . . "

"He's still pining after Alison, I'll warrant," Jerry told them. He managed to hide his smile as David glared at him.

Ella's eyes widened. "You don't mean. . . Alison, the gatekeeper's daughter?"

"The very one. She and her family have been living in Selira for many years, now. They escaped Kyrria not long after. . ." Jerry trailed off, his eyes darting over to his father, who was now examining Sally. He saw Char's back stiffen fractionally. He rushed on, "After the. . . uh, _event_."

Of course, they all understood his allusion. It was the reason they were here. It was the reason for everything.

"You both know how dangerous it is to reveal your true identities to anyone, friend or no. I hope you didn't tell her who you really were." Char's voice was stern.

"No, of course not. Alison only knows David as 'George,' though she kept _swearing_ that we all looked _so_ familiar." Jerry shrugged. "It was a complete accident that we ran into her at all, really."

"She was always a sharp one, even at four years old. I always liked her; so precocious, and that red hair! I remember how she and Davy used to play house in the orchard; it was terribly sweet. . ." Ella smiled wistfully, remembering carefree days that were long gone. She did not notice David's face turning varying shades of pink.

"She never remembered, anyway. She was too young when we left. She and David still seem to share a special bond, however. . ." Jerry trailed off.

David now looked too downcast to warrant any more teasing. Jerry knew how he felt, though. None of them had been able to maintain any friendships, or romances, for that matter, ever since their wandering existence had begun. Secrecy was always of the utmost importance, and they never stayed anywhere long enough to develop anything beyond casual acquaintances. For David, that meant that his only friends since the age of five had been his brothers. He had never really known a normal life.

It was better that way, Jerry thought bitterly. It was better not to be able to recall their happy, comfortable life in Kyrria, the many friends that they never saw again, save Alison, who didn't even remember them. . .

His mind turned to his own losses. There was the throne that was to have been his to inherit. . . A long line of successors, all noble men, just and kind, leading their country to prosperity and peace. . . To have joined their ranks one day would have fulfilled all of his dearest wishes. Now, that dream seemed long gone.

The exiled royal family had been working, these past fifteen years, toward regaining their rightful place. They did not accept their fate. They traveled quietly, secretly. They saw tall mountains, deep seas, and never-ending forests. They met all kinds of people, some good, some not-so-good. If they managed to find someone trustworthy, they told their story and turned them on to their cause. By now, they had a handful or two of these people, scattered across far-reaching lands. If they needed them, they could call on them. It was of little comfort, though - progress was hard to come by.

They did not have might backing them, like an army, and even if they did, Char did not wish to use brute force.

They didn't know how to break the spell that had been cast so long ago. Mandy and Ella knew that they needed to find the fairy who had done it (and even then, it might be a useless endeavor), but they had never had a trace of that elusive personage in the first place.

Last but not least, but somehow more important than rescuing Kyrria from a tyrant, was their missing family member: daughter, sister, goddaughter. They had searched for her, too, during those long years. . . in vain.

Immediately following their flight from Kyrria fifteen years ago, they had been hunted and sought out. Spies, it seemed, had been everywhere. They could not trust anyone. Those had been the bleakest years: never staying in one place for more than two days together, constantly looking over their shoulders, unable to rely on anyone they met. Eventually, though, as more time passed, their pursuers became fewer and fewer. They were still worth more than their weight in gold KJs if captured, but it was as lax as it had ever been. On the map that had started showing up in Ella's magic book, the tiny dot that symbolized their party inched closer and closer to the wavy line that signified the border of Kyrria.

It was like the book was saying, _so close._

The news they were able to glean instilled hope in them. The opportunity for the return of the true royal family was fast growing ripe. Since their escape, Kyrria had been on a slow but steady downward dive. The people were starving, taxes were higher than ever, and ogres came and went through the cities and towns as often as they pleased. The soldiers and knights who worked to keep the creatures to their territory, the Fens, became aimless and disorganized without strong leadership to guide them, as their captain, of course, was one of the cursed. Supposedly his mind was so addled by it, he had wandered off to Frell to dazedly attend the local tavern, where he would sit with some ale and harp on and on about the evil King Charmont and Kyrria's savior, the True King Algernon - his own thoughts and wishes were gone.

Without direction, the strategy for protecting Kyrria from the ogre threat fell apart. Scores of soldiers broke off from their camps, became lost near the Fens, and were never seen again.

Without many clever enemies, the ogres took full advantage. People disappeared simply walking from their homes to the market. Some would follow a band of ogres out of town, oblivious to the screams and shouts of those who tried to drown out the ogres' speech and save them. The king, meanwhile, did nothing but sit on his throne all day long, dressed in golden robes, ordering about his servants and eating excessive amounts of plum pudding and turkey legs.

The allegiance of those who had been cursed was as unswerving as ever. They sang the king's praises, toasting to him over their meals every night, their duties and oaths completely forgotten. They followed Algernon's every order and decree, most of which were ludicrous and lacking totally in the department of reason, without question. The peasant class was angry, dumbfounded. . . and outnumbered. In the beginning, they had staged uprisings or riots almost every week, but after years of being beaten down and trodden upon, they were losing heart. Their heads were bowed under the heavy weight of the rule that they couldn't seem to change, and the threat of growing unsafety in a world that had once been just the opposite.

As the days and weeks passed, Char and Ella and their sons became more impatient to act, to do _something_, especially as the opportunity was quickly growing. They had waited _years_ for such a thing. They had a few people on their side, they were no longer looked for in earnest, and the crown was seemingly weakening. They had been waiting and traveling and searching and biding their time, but yet, at this most perfect meeting of the right circumstances, they could not come up with a concrete plan that wouldn't get them all captured, or worse, killed.

They couldn't think of a way to get around the spell. They couldn't find the fairy who cast it. They didn't know how to break it. Until they could, they would be apprehended as soon as they stepped a toe over the Kyrrian border. They couldn't get around _that_.

Despite all of this, their determination never waned. The alternative was unthinkable.

"I hope the twins won't be much longer. It's not safe for us to linger here," Char said.

"Why not? What happened?" Jerry asked.

"I can't be entirely sure, but I think someone was following your mother and me from the main road. I took a few shortcuts, and I _think_ we lost him eventually, but one can never be too sure, or too careful. We are, after all, much closer to Kyrria than we have ever dared to be. Even here there is a possibility we could be recognized."

"Even disguised?"

"You never know, Jerry."

A twig snapped behind them. All at once, Henry, Gareth, and Mandy came into view through the trees. Mandy rode astride a small horse, led by Gareth. Henry brought up the rear. Ella ran to meet them, stumbling on a protruding tree root. Char caught her elbow just in time. She impatiently pushed him away once she was righted, hurrying forward once more. Char only smiled wryly at her eagerness, letting her have her moment. As she pulled her sons into warm embraces, he helped Mandy dismount. Then there were hugs, handshakes, and greetings all around.

After all of the hellos had been said, Mandy took the saddlebags and disappeared into the wagon. A few stray leaves fluttered to the ground from the bulging, over-stuffed bags, trailing in her wake. Jerry bent over and picked one off the ground. "What is this?"

"She didn't say, and she wouldn't leave until she had picked as much as she could carry," Gareth replied.

Mandy's muffled voice came from inside the wagon, "If you must know, this is all for my Tonic!" She sounded rather excited. Her stocks of Tonic had run out years ago, and she hadn't been able to make more, since. She had grown the rare, special plant, the main ingredient in question, herself, in her kitchen garden at the castle. The opportunity to finally obtain some, even a wild specimen, was more than she could have hoped for.

Henry groaned. "Oh, no! I _knew_ taking her to the river was a bad idea. . ."

Jerry laughed. Tonic had been forced on them all, even Char, for as long as he could remember. It actually tasted rather good; the texture, however, left much to be desired. It seemed to coat one's throat, and he remembered swallowing convulsively for hours after being dosed, trying to get rid of the sensation.

"- just what we need!" Mandy was saying cheerfully, her voice still coming from within the wagon, where she could be heard bustling about, getting her supplies ready. "My Tonic will help keep everyone healthy, and then I won't feel _quite_ so worried -" Her voice lowered in pitch, and they could not make out what else she was saying as she talked to herself.

Gareth shrugged. "This is the best mood she's been in for. . . well, maybe _ever_, so I don't think it's such a bad thing."

Ella patted his arm affectionately. "I agree, Gareth." She turned toward the wagon. "I think I'll help her." She walked over and climbed in, and soon the voices of both women were mixed together, weaving in and out. It was a comforting sound.

"So, do you think it worked, Father?" Henry questioned suddenly. Jerry and Gareth moved in to complete the circle, father and older sons standing together companionably. David was still sitting on a fallen log some ways off, staring into the distance. They let him be.

Char crossed his arms, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "You aren't up to speed, yet. I think your mother and I were followed for a bit after we left the main road. Now, I can't be _completely_ sure, but I think it was the same person who was following us two weeks ago. Splitting up the group seemed to throw them off for awhile, but somehow they picked up the trail again. We lost them, but it's not safe to stay here, all the same. As I said to Jerry, better safe than sorry."

"Do you think we'll have to split up again?" Jerry wondered.

"That remains to be seen. If we catch wind of our 'friend,' then maybe. I don't like to be separated, though. It worries your mother too much." He didn't have to say that it worried him, too. The relief at having his sons surrounding him was evident in his expression.

Jerry and Gareth nodded, but Henry looked petulant. He kicked at the ground, his brow creased.

Char looked at him. "Henry, is there something you wanted to say?"

Henry gazed around the circle at his brothers and his father. "I'm tired of running. Why must we always run? I'm not afraid!"

Jerry sighed, shaking his head. Henry had the most problems with their lifestyle. He simply had too much energy, and not enough ways to expend it. Jerry had a hard time keeping him out of trouble. Too often, Henry looked for it, or launched into it willingly. Two days ago, he had wanted to face the ogres they had run from. He chomped at the bit to get into any kind of skirmish. Jerry had been forced to practically drag him along, which didn't help their escape. Afterward, he had lost his temper. . .

. . .

_"Were you TRYING to get us all killed? Was that your aim back there, Henry, huh? Answer me!"_

_"We wouldn't have been killed, Jerry; we could have taken them, easy! If you would have just let me get a good swing at one. . ."_

_"How many times do we have to go over this?! We CAN'T draw attention to ourselves." _

_Henry's face was red with indignation. "We could have been discreet -"_

_Jerry snorted. "Discreet? Bringing down a band of ugly ogres who have been plaguing the countryside is the exact opposite_ _of discreet! Land's sake, use your head! The way you're going, sooner or later you might lose it."_

_Henry, still unable to see reason, had shoved past him, using much more force than necessary. He stalked off without another word. Jerry let it pass; he wouldn't rile up Henry any further. Meanwhile, in the distance, Henry began attacking a crop of weeds with his blade, slicing their tops off as if they had done him a personal ill. Jerry could only shake his head and sigh._

_. . ._

It _was_ hard, living like this, day-to-day, never knowing where you might end up or who you might run into. It was hard watching his brothers struggle with it, Henry especially. Jerry tried to be strong, an example for all of them, but sometimes he, himself, wouldn't have minded a little foray, a little action with his sword - he didn't really blame Henry for wanting it. But, no. It was out of the question. Caution was the rule if they were ever to succeed, if they were ever to return home. . .

Jerry's thoughts moved back to the present, realizing that no one had spoken yet.

Henry's words seemed to hang in the air. _Why must we always run? _Char stared at his son, his eyes unfathomable. Finally, he said, "You know why. And there's nothing we could have done to prevent it. Until we learn more, until we cobble together an actual _plan_, we have to keep moving. There's no other option."

Henry was silent after that.

They decided to camp that night, as the day was growing late. The next day, they packed up the wagon, hitched up both horses, and moved on.

* * *

_**To my reviewers: If I haven't said it enough, I'll say it again: THANK YOU!_

_Next chapter, we're back with Ana and her recent discovery.**_


	11. Chance Encounters

**11 - CHANCE ENCOUNTERS**

"Do you really think. . . ?"

"Why not? What other explanation is there? This is exactly the type of thing we were looking for."

Ana slowly sank to the floor, her patched gown pooling around her. She held the fine lavender cloth, possibly her baby blanket, in both arms. She stared down at it, stroking it with her fingers. She traced the large embroidered 'E,' her expression distant. Raven watched her, knowing that, now that she had this small thing, Ana would not be able to stop herself. She would want to know the whole truth. Her mind would run on ahead of her, and she would not be able to rein it in.

He did not know what she would do or where she would go in order to find answers. He only knew of the certainty of it. It worried him, but he couldn't think of that now.

He sat next to her, putting an arm around her. Ana leaned into his shoulder. Her face was sad, full of longing for something she had never been able to have. A mother, a father. A family. He knew what she was thinking: _Why didn't they want me?_ He didn't say anything; he merely pulled her closer.

The setting sun cast long, slanting rays through the lone, small window of the bedroom. Dust motes floated lazily around their heads, the specks drifting in the fading light. They were quiet, sitting together for a long, immeasurable moment. Raven forgot that he was supposed to be pretending that his feelings were nonexistent-

Noises coming from outside the cottage made them both stiffen. There was the rattling of what sounded like a harness, and the squeak and clatter of wheels moving. They were both alert, waiting for the unknown wagon to pass. It didn't. Hoof beats grew closer, then stopped. A sharp rap on the cottage door quickly followed. Raven and Ana stared at each other in alarm, and then they were both on their feet. Raven handed Ana the book, the jar, the cloth bag, and finally the blanket as she hurriedly stuffed each item into the hole in the floor. She replaced the floorboard, and he pushed the bed into place. They both moved to the front room as the rapping on the door became more impatient. Raven went to open it, but Ana stopped him to wipe smudges of dirt and dust from his cheek with her apron. He couldn't help but smile a little at this, leaning down so she could reach his face better, feeling like a three-year-old submitting to his impatient mother. Except, a mother's fingers on his face never would have sent tingling sensations running up and down his spine-

The door flung open from a particularly heavy blow from the unexpected guest, who had begun to bang on the door like a battering ram.

They blinked in astonishment. A large man wearing a plumed hat and turquoise livery was standing in the doorway, his fist still raised in the air, his face befuddled. Sitting only ten yards away, looking comically out of place in the dust, was a splendid coach, like none they had ever seen before. The exterior looked as if it was trying to pass for something simpler and plainer than it actually was, but had failed miserably in the process. It was painted a strange shade of green, and the doors and windows were trimmed in gold. The windows were hung with thick, luxurious curtains, concealing the important personage who was presumably within.

More pressing, however, was the coachman who was standing on the doorstep, giving Raven and Ana an impatient look. Ana finally found her voice, and more importantly, her manners.

She cleared her throat. "Hello, sir. May we help you?" Her eyes kept darting to the strange coach. She thought she saw one of the patterned curtains flutter.

The coachman stood importantly. "Her Majesty, the Queen of Selira." He bowed smoothly, stepping aside. Another footman hurried around the coach, opening the door. A small woman emerged, elegantly dressed, but her face was open and friendly as she smiled at Ana and Raven, who were now both unabashedly gawking.

Ana was the first to remember herself. She discreetly nudged Raven with her elbow, and then dipped into a curtsy. She wobbled as she bent, not being used to such fripperies, her cheeks flushing a brilliant pink. Raven bowed low, not embarrassed in the slightest.

The queen spoke, and her voice was warm with amusement. "I'm sorry to so rudely intrude. My escorts and I are on our way to the capital, but I am afraid these woods have confounded us. I'm ashamed to say that we have been driving in circles for the better part of an hour. This is the second time we have passed in sight of your cottage, you see, so I thought it best to stop and get our bearings." She smiled at them gently, and Ana felt immediately at ease. She had never encountered any royalty before, but the queens she imagined in her head were nothing like _this_. This queen was like a regular person, almost, but for the clothes and the beautiful way her hair was dressed. The dark, honey-blonde curls were elegantly pinned away from her face, and her blue eyes were soft and bright. The freckles scattered on her nose heartened Ana; they reminded her of her own.

"Please, your Majesty, we would be happy to help you on your way. It is no trouble at all."

"Call me Cecilia. You are. . . ?"

Ana almost forgot her name, she was so astonished. _Call _her_ Cecilia?_ How could she call a _queen_ Cecilia?!Luckily, she recovered quickly. "I'm Ana, and this is Raven. "

"Thank you, Ana."

"Please your Ma- er, Cecilia, would you like to come in and take some refreshment? You must have had a long journey." Ana had no idea if this was the right thing to do, but she decided that it would be better to be polite the best she knew how, rather than put on false airs. After all, this was a queen at a cottage. It was entirely unprecedented in Ana's mind.

Cecilia seemed to understand. "That would be lovely, if it isn't too much trouble."

Soon they were all sitting around the wooden table in the front room of the cottage with mugs of mead, including the coachman, who had declined graciously at first, but had eventually accepted after Cecilia had urged him. Ana thought to bring the remaining maid, footmen, and guards their own mugs, which they accepted gratefully, and then returned inside. The shadows were lengthening. She lit a lantern. The others were already talking.

"- to find out what we can. My husband would have gone himself, but he has been tied up with his dealings with Kyrria, of late." Cecilia looked worried.

Raven spoke self-assuredly. "Selira is a tiny country, but Kyrria is no longer as mighty as it once was in its heyday. That was some time ago, but I've heard stories." Ana rolled her eyes. Raven knew about as much about both countries as she did: barely anything beyond his own experience, no more than a few stray facts. Despite that, she also knew that he was very good at making conversation with just about anyone, from royalty to the lowest serf. He could draw out any discussion, no matter what he knew about the subject. Talking to a queen in his best friend's lowly cottage would not give him even the slightest pause.

The coachman took up the subject with zeal. "Yes. When King Charmont ruled, to be exact. Those were the golden years. The ironic thing is, Selira was friendly with Kyrria when _he_ sat on the throne. Now. . ." He paused, taking a contemplative swig of his mead. "To this day, no one knows exactly what happened to him, or the royal family. They disappeared, every last one." He threw a worried glance at the queen. At the mention of the missing royalty, her eyes grew dark and troubled.

"My brother was a good king. He wouldn't have abandoned his country. Something happened to him," she said quietly.

Ana looked from one person to another. Cecilia's face was serene and resigned, but her eyes betrayed darker thoughts. Raven looked intrigued, and the coachman merely chugged down his mead.

She knew of Kyrria, distantly. It was over the mountains. She had heard vague snatches about it, here and there. Barton often talked of foreign affairs with his patrons at his shop, and she had grasped a little, mostly getting the gist that it was a country in turmoil. She had never bothered about it before. It seemed so far away. . . so inconsequential to her small life in the forest. Selira was even farther than Kyrria, just a tiny country on the edge of the sea. . .

Ana hesitated, but her curiosity got the better of her. "You were King Charmont's sister?"

"Yes, I _am_ his sister."

Ana noticed the inflection, but understood that it wasn't harshly meant. It was stated with simple certainty, like Cecilia knew it was a fact, though proof was nowhere to be found. Ana admired the strength this implied, the optimism.

The coachman rose, scraping back his chair. "Well, your Majesty, the sun is almost gone. We'd best be on our way. You say the village is only a few miles north, lad?" he inquired, turning to Raven.

"Yes, sir. Just take the left fork after the big rock and follow the road straight north - you should arrive quickly enough. There's an inn on the main road that will have rooms available."

"I thank you kindly for your hospitality." He shook Raven's hand heartily. "Lass." He bowed in Ana's direction, and then ducked out into the yard.

Cecilia rose, moving to the door. She stopped in front of Ana, looking her in the face. They were almost the same height. "Thank you for your kindness." She pressed Ana's hand, pausing as she gazed at her. "You know, you look so much like someone I once knew. . . it's quite uncanny." She tilted her head to the side, frowning. Ana felt self-conscious under such scrutiny. She felt herself blushing again. The queen's eyes were intent for another second, focusing on Ana's violet ones. . . and then she shook her head, as if to clear her mind from a fog. Her expression lightened, and she chuckled. "I'm glad to be reminded of her. She was so full of spark; she made everything fun."

Ana was puzzled, but managed to reply, "I'm happy to resemble her, then, even if it is a chance coincidence." _What was that about?_

Cecilia smiled, touching Ana's cheek. "You're a sweet girl. Goodbye, Ana. . . . Goodbye Raven."

Raven bowed elegantly, and Ana couldn't help noticing that, for the space of a second, he looked much more like a prince than a poor blacksmith's apprentice. More important, though, was the set of his mouth, which she knew indicated that he was just as puzzled as she was.

Soon the queen of Selira had disappeared inside the waiting coach. The coachman tipped his hat to Ana and Raven, and then spoke to the horses. The coach jolted into the gathering dusk, glowing lanterns swinging at each door.

As the vehicle faded into the distance, the outline of a short, stout figure could be seen ambling up the road. Ana squinted, and then made out the color of Gladys's familiar gray traveling cloak. She had finally returned.

Raven and Ana looked at one another. Their expressions were identical, silently assenting that the day had been a strange one, indeed.

"What do you think-?"

"I can't fathom a guess." Ana's head was whirling. Too much had happened in the space of too little time. Her thoughts skipped from Cecilia's odd moment of scrutiny to the lavender blanket resting in a dark hole in the floor.

"Gladys is coming up the road. Should I leave?"

"No." Ana's voice was firm. "Stay for dinner."

Raven looked taken aback. He was never allowed to stay past dusk. "But-"

She turned to him, smiling a little. "If I say you can stay, you can stay. Unless you don't want to. . ."

Her eyes mesmerized him for a moment, completely unintentionally, and he forgot why he was about to question her. "No- I mean. . . what? Oh. . . uh, yes, I want to stay."

Gladys entered the cottage just then, muttering to herself. Ana chewed on the edge of her lip, warning Raven with her eyes to stay silent. Gladys disappeared into her bedroom. She either did not notice Raven, or was too preoccupied to comment. Even further, she didn't say anything about the visiting coach, which she must have seen driving away from the cottage.

A tense minute passed. Raven opened his mouth to speak to Ana a few times, but she only shook her head emphatically, putting her finger to her lips. He sighed, seating himself at the table. Ana's gaze was fixed on the door of the bedroom.

They heard noises escaping from the crack under the door. A faint scrape, almost like the sound of a bed being moved. . .

Ana held her breath.

Utter silence. And then -

"_ANA_!"

Gladys burst into the front room, her face beet red. Raven unconsciously scooted his chair back a few inches. Gladys in a rage was a scary sight.

He knew, at that moment, that something in the hole in the floor must have been out of place. They had been so rushed, with the unexpected company, that they hadn't had time to check that everything was just as they'd found it. . .

"YOU STUPID SLATTERN, WHAT IN THE NAME OF KING NATHANIAL WERE YOU DOING IN MY ROOM, LOOKING THROUGH MY THINGS?"

Ana stood straight and firm. She did not move an inch. Her chin lifted fractionally, her mouth set. "Apparently, I had every right to look through your things. You know what I'm about to say, so why don't you just explain, so we don't waste any time?"

This enraged Gladys even further. She started forward, one hand raised. Ana did not move, even when Gladys advanced directly upon her, slapping her full across the face. Raven bolted out of his chair, meaning to move between the two women, but Ana held out one hand, the other covering her now bright-red cheek. She shook her head at him.

When she spoke again, it was with the same calm, composed tone. "You can do whatever you like to me. It doesn't matter. I saw what I saw, and there's nothing you can do about it. You can either explain now, or I can leave in the morning and find the answers myself. Either way, I _will_ find out."

Raven came to stand slightly behind Ana, taking her free hand in his. He spoke to Gladys softly, "I won't allow you to hurt her again; I'm warning you."

Gladys's lip curled slightly at this, but she said nothing, choosing to ignore him. She took a few deep breaths, calming herself. When she was slightly more under control, she finally spoke, gritting her teeth. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

They all stared at each other, at an impasse.

Ana broke the silence. "Liar."

At this, Gladys started forward again, but all it took was Raven, stepping slightly in front of Ana, to stop her in her tracks. In the small room, he seemed taller than ever. At first she simply glowered, even more livid, her face a deep shade of magenta. Then, completely unexpectedly, her face slackened, her color fading. Neither Raven nor Ana let their surprise show. They watched as, grumbling incoherently, Gladys slumped over to her rocking chair by the fire, admitting defeat without having to say a word. She glared at the young pair, still standing together in a united front of defiance. Ana relaxed, giving Raven's hand a squeeze before releasing it. She steered him back to the table, pushing him into a seat. She sat across from him.

Gladys and Ana stared at each other for a long moment across the dimly lit room. They almost appeared to be measuring each other up. Gladys rocked slowly, the corners of her mouth deeply settling into her normal frown.

"I was never going to tell you. Ever," she said flatly.

Ana remained silent, waiting.

"The blanket was yours. You were wrapped in it when you first came here. You inferred this, already."

Ana nodded slightly.

"All I know is that you came from a country far away from here. Your parents wanted you, but it was necessary to remove you from their care. I was entrusted to raise you. I did not argue. I willingly accepted it."

Ana's firm exterior cracked. Now she looked helplessly upset. "You told me that I was abandoned. . . that you found me in the forest, and that you were forced to take me in by the village council. . . you said they were going to take it up with the king, if you didn't comply. . . they couldn't justify leaving a helpless baby, and it was your responsibility to care for me, since you found me. . ."

Now Gladys was the one to remain silent. Raven looked on, enthralled by exchange. He didn't know how it had happened, but Gladys had acquiesced. It was the strangest thing, too. . . she almost looked. . . _guilty_.

Ana looked straight at Gladys, into her eyes. "Why didn't you just tell me the truth? Why the secrecy, why the lies?"

"It's not my place to tell you."

"What?"

Gladys kept her mouth firmly shut. The flow was stemmed.

"You have to tell me the rest. You can't stop there. . . there's much, much more that you're hiding. I know it."

Though it seemed impossible, Gladys pressed her lips together more firmly.

Ana sat very still, her breathing irregular. She clenched her fists. "Who, then?"

Gladys seemed to thaw as confusion crossed her face. "What?"

"Who has the answers, then?"

Gladys mumbled to herself under her breath. Ana strained her ears, managing to catch only one word: "Lucinda."

"Who's Lucinda?"

Gladys drew up short, her eyes widening. "I never said - no. . . I didn't. . ."

Ana latched onto this apparent slip-up, growing excited. "Who is Lucinda, Gladys? Tell me. You _must_ tell me!"

Gladys seemed to turn to stone, she was so unwilling, her mouth once again settling into a firm, immovable line. She would not speak.

"_Please_, Gladys. _Please. . ._" Ana felt wretched. Tears collected in the corners of her eyes. Raven leaned forward, reaching for her, but she ignored him. She had to know. It wasn't _right_, not knowing. She grew more agitated, thinking of her parents out somewhere in the world, _wanting_ her. . . when she had thought, all her life, that it had been just the opposite. Before she could stop it or realize what was happening, she felt a familiar tingling sensation in her chest. Her eyes locked on the sight of Gladys, still refusing to say anything further. She blinked. . .

All of a sudden, Gladys sat up straight in her chair. Her eyes looked glassy. "Lucinda, come to my aid," she said, her voice ringing. She slumped back in her chair, shaking her head, looking dazed.

Two seconds later, a resounding knock came from the other side of the front door. Three heads whipped around to stare at it incredulously. There had been no noises to warn of an approach. _Did that really just happen?_ Ana wondered frantically. _Oh no, I must've. . ._

Before she could think about what she had just made Gladys do, a sing-song voice accompanied another tap on the door. "Helloooo? I've arrived, and I've even remembered my manners, though I was summoned at a _very_ inconvenient time. . . Hellooo? It is I, Lucinda!"

* * *

_**I'll bet some of you are wondering why Cecilia didn't put two and two together. I will only say that she never met Ana/Nora, ever. She was married off to a foreign prince, obviously, so traveling back home was difficult and rare. A really big hint, though, pertains to the now-infamous eyes. They completely threw Cecilia for a loop. No one she was ever related to had eyes like that. Or so she thought._

_Anyway, I think I will be able to update a little more often after the semester is officially over (soon!), at least until summer classes start.  
_

_Thanks for your kind reviews, and thanks for sticking with me this far!****  
**_


	12. Lucinda's Visit

**12 - LUCINDA'S VISIT  
**

Raven seemed to get a grip on his senses first, so he was the one who wrenched open the door.

A stooped woman met their eyes on the threshold. She looked utterly ordinary. She stepped past Raven into the cottage, not even waiting for a greeting. Her eyes lit up at the sight of Gladys.

"Well, I never - the garden fairy! How can I help you, dear?"

At the mention of "garden fairy," a quick succession of images flipped through Gladys's head, without her willing it. Big, beautiful blooms, any color imaginable, twice as large as the next skilled gardener's. Lush fruits, ripening to perfection, sweet and juicy. Crisp vegetables, growing so fast and plentiful that there always had to be multiple harvests. Working in rich, dark earth, the scent of rain and green leaves lingering in the air. Weaving subtle, loving magic into anything she grew.

That was all over, now. She used to be known, far and wide, as the most skilled and sought-after gardener, but it was locked up in a secret place, hidden in her past. In her current life, she couldn't afford to be known as anything.

She let herself linger on being called a "garden fairy" for a few precious seconds, focusing on the part of it that brought back all that she had loved, once.

And then, she realized that Lucinda had given everything away with two words. The cat was out of the bag. All around her, the foundations of the careful secrets she had been keeping were crumbling into dust.

Gladys could only open and shut her mouth wordlessly, gaping like a fish stranded on land. Her eyes darted to where her ward was sitting. Her expression was horrified.

"You never were one for much talk, Gladys. Who-?" Lucinda turned to look at Raven and Ana with questioning eyes. Both young people were gawking at Gladys.

At first, Lucinda only gave them a perfunctory glance. As she was turning back to Gladys, however (who still had not uttered one word), a look of confusion crossed her features, and she swiftly spun back to face Ana, staring at her.

Ana seemed to be surfacing from a daydream. A million thoughts were hidden behind her eyes. She slowly met Lucinda's gaze.

All at once, Lucinda's face brightened, beaming with happiness. The confusion was gone; in it's place, recognition. "Why, I haven't laid eyes on you since you were a wee baby. Little Eleanor - Nora! Oh, how wonderful! My darling child, you are the spitting image of your mother. I would know that profile anywhere, though the eyes are different. Just look at you! A bit of your father, too, I see - the freckles, and the curl of your hair - how happy I am to make your acquaintance. . . " she trailed off as she finally noticed Gladys, who had buried her head in her hands, and was now shaking her head and moaning. Lucinda frowned down at her. "Whatever is the matter, Gladys, dear? I don't think -"

All of a sudden, her eyes widened in horror. She looked down at Gladys, back at Ana, and then down at Gladys again. Realization dawned on her face.

Ana was standing, now, both hands covering her mouth. "What did you call me?" she gasped. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. "Nora? M-my name is Nora?" She looked over at Raven in wonder, whose mouth was hanging open in shock. When their eyes met, he pushed out of his chair, crossing the room dazedly to envelope _Nora_ in his arms. "_Eleanor_, Raven. E for _Eleanor_. . ." she was saying.

They both turned back to Lucinda with obvious questions ready to pour forth.

Before they could speak, unexpectedly, a few tears dropped from Lucinda's eyes. Ana/Nora reached out her hand, but the fairy shuddered slightly. "I shouldn't be here. . . I didn't realize. I forgot - Cassandra. . ." Lucinda dipped her head, avoiding their eyes, and practically ran to the door. "I'm sorry, child, I'm so terribly sorry. Please forgive me. . . I _do_ esteem your parents so. . . but I can't involve myself!"

She opened the door and stepped outside. Raven ran to stop her, but it was too late. Lucinda vanished into thin air. One minute she was there, the next, she was gone.

Lucinda's identity was now obvious. Only a fairy could disappear like that.

Gladys kept moaning in the corner. Raven and Ana were still.

A long minute passed.

"Gladys. . . you're a _fairy_?"

Gladys looked up at them, appearing wearier and more defeated than they had ever seen her. "You were never supposed to know. None of it. . . and now. . . now she'll find out."

"Who is _she_?" Raven crossed his arms. All thoughts of leaving had completely left his head. The night only got stranger and stranger. . .

Ana piped in. "Lucinda said a name. . . _Cassandra_. I have a feeling that's who Gladys is referring to. Am I right, Gladys?"

Gladys nodded miserably. She seemed past all evasive maneuvers, now. "Why, oh _why_ did I have to be involved? An unforgiving job, and all because I owed her that stupid favor. Oh, it's too late, now. She'll find out. . . She'll find out what I didn't do." Gladys now seemed unaware of the other two people with her in the room. "It wasn't an even exchange of favors, I should have argued. . . the girl _and_ the boy? Too much. . . too much. . ."

Ana exchanged a stunned look with Raven. _The boy?_

"Noland and Nora, and she expected me to use Big magic! I could never - _ever_, _ever_ - the consequences!" Gladys shivered in her rocking chair, her eyes staring straight ahead, unseeing.

Another silence blanketed over the three of them in the small room. Gladys rocked and rocked in her chair, senseless, and Nora and Raven could only stare at each other, the words frozen in the air between them. Nora could see Raven's hand in his pocket, and knew that his fist was clenched around his whistle. She reached out her hand and laid it on his forearm. He relaxed at her touch.

"Gladys, when you say _Noland_ - are you referring to Raven?" Raven shook his head at Nora, but all the same, he looked just as eager to hear the answer as she did.

Gladys seemed to come to herself, then, her eyes focusing. She seemed to remember where she was. She looked wildly about; she appeared to be completely losing it. Her face was frightened, dazed.

"Please don't ask me. Don't make me say any more! I won't, I won't! She'll come after me!"

"Cassandra will? Gladys, we don't understand -"

"No more!"

Ana sighed in frustration, on her last nerve. She didn't understand why Gladys kept clamming up, and she desperately wanted more information. It sounded like Gladys had taken in Ana as a favor to Cassandra, but there was something else she was supposed to do, involving Raven, that she had not carried out. Something that defied Cassandra's wishes. Something Gladys couldn't bring herself to do. Something to do with "Big magic." But what?

Ana needed the rest of the story. It was everything. "If you won't tell us, then we're going to find someone who will." She looked at Raven for confirmation.

"I'm with you." His eyes were fierce.

"Wait, you're going to leave? Both of you?" Gladys's voice sounded strained. Ana knew, the moment after this query had left her lips, that it was true. A Pandora's box of questions had been opened that day. They seemed to be hovering over her and Raven, teasing them with their faint glimmers of truth. There was no undoing it. The few pieces of information that they had learned only left further questions in their wake.

"Ana-" Gladys began.

"Don't call me that," Ana said. She suddenly realized that she didn't want to be associated with her old name anymore. It was false. She continued, "I'm Nora, and I'm leaving. How could you expect any less?"

"You can't leave," Gladys said, looking frightened.

"Why ever not?"

"It's not safe."

"For us. . . or for you?"

Gladys did not answer.

As for Nora (both claiming and reveling in her name, because she believed it was truly _hers,_ given to her by people who loved her), she had no doubt about where she and Raven would start looking. They would go straight to the source. Gladys had made it quite clear that this strange person was more involved in their fates than they could have believed, though they didn't know why or how.

This person seemed mysterious and elusive, on the edge of being almost mythical, with the way that Gladys had referred to her.

But Cassandra was who they must seek, because somehow, Nora knew, with a feeling in her gut, that if anyone had answers, she did.

* * *

_**Yep, Lucinda knows everything. She's not exactly brave, you know. She has good intentions, but she could never stand up to Cassandra, and she would never interfere. I think she tried to insert a little help when she could (giving protective gifts when she could get away with it), but remember that she renounced Big magic. Though she messes up, she does try to stick to that._

_I'm sorry this chapter is so short. I prefer longer chapters, but a lot of what I had was really just extraneous conversation that didn't need to be there._

_I'm writing a novel here, but I also wanted to mention that classes are officially over. :D Now I can write more, and hopefully update a little more often.****  
**_


	13. Magic

_**A quick update, because I'm anxious to move along with the story! _

_Also, this is the last pre-written chapter I have. From now on, I'll be posting as I finish writing.**_

* * *

**13 - MAGIC**

Nora watched the sun rise over the tops of the trees. She sat calmly, contentedly. There was no doubt or hesitation in her mind. She only knew what she wanted and how she needed to go about getting it.

A figure appeared in the distance, across the clearing and through the forest. All she could see was a dark blot, but she knew it was Raven. As he got closer, he waved, and she raised her arm in return. She couldn't contain her energy for long. Eventually she sprang to her feet, running lightly through the tall grass to meet him.

A pack was slung over his shoulder, and he was wearing sturdy traveling clothes and tough leather boots. He smiled as she approached.

"Where's your pack?"

She had forgotten it, in her eagerness to be away. Her expression told him as much. He laughed.

"Run back and get it. I'll wait -" She was already running back to the cottage. "- here." Over her shoulder, she could hear him chuckling softly. His voice got fainter as she crossed back towards where she had left her cloak and satchel.

She had been mostly looking at the ground as she ran, and only Raven's tense shout made her stop in her tracks and look up.

"Ana!" In the heat of the moment, he had forgotten that she had denounced her old name. Right then, however, it didn't matter.

Gladys was standing in the doorway of the cottage.

Nora had not been worried about her. . . until now. Last night, after her declaration of intentions to leave, Gladys had silently retreated into her bedroom, after Nora had stubbornly climbed the ladder to her small loft. Always, after an altercation, Gladys would simply point to the door, in the direction of the shed. Nora had been banished more times than she could count, often for much milder offenses. Gladys had made no such move this time, but Nora's actions had indicated that she would no longer heed her guardian's wishes. With Gladys's silence, Nora had assumed that it had been her way of assenting, accepting.

Apparently, she had misread everything.

Gladys looked taller than she had during the events of the night. Then, she had seemed to shrink further and further into herself, losing all of her authority as her secrets were laid bare to the world. Now, she seemed to have rallied. Her hands were firmly on her hips, her face set in a deep frown. Her eyes glinted forbiddingly.

Nora stood motionless, straight as an arrow. She stared down the older woman. _The fairy_, she thought. This one revelation still caught her by surprise. She had a hard time believing it, looking at Gladys, who was lumpy, stocky, and knob-nosed. The fairies she had always imagined were tall, graceful, impeccably beautiful, and ethereal. She was quickly learning that she could not always trust appearances.

"You are not going anywhere." Gladys's voice was hard and cold.

Nora heard a soft rustling, the whisper of grass. She felt, rather than saw, Raven standing a few feet behind her.

"You can't stop us."

"Don't make me do it. If I have to, I will."

"No, you won't."

"I'm warning you, child. Don't make me obliged to stop you."

Nora breathed deeply. She squared her shoulders, then walked up to the door of the cottage. She bent, using efficient movements, and retrieved her pack and her traveling cloak from where she had laid them earlier. She walked back to stand beside Raven. Nora raised her chin, giving Gladys one last look, meeting those stone-cold eyes. Then she turned away. Raven followed. They walked a few feet through the tall grass, side by side.

A roaring wind came up suddenly, so strong that it almost knocked them both sideways. They cried out in surprise, bracing themselves instinctively against it, and as it lessened, their first inclination was to run. Raven's hand found hers, and they sprinted toward the shelter of the trees across the clearing.

Before they could reach it, another gale force hit them. They stumbled to the ground. On her hands and knees, the wind whipping and tugging at her, Nora managed a glance back at Gladys. She was just as they had left her: standing in the doorway of the cottage, still and silent, watching them. The wind did not seem to touch her. _Of course not_, realized Nora. _She's the one who's _doing_ this._

She could barely hear Raven over the roaring. He was shouting at her, motioning toward the forest. He grabbed her hand again, and together they ran toward the trees, the wind pushing into them, slowing their progress. It was like trying to run through water. They were about ten feet from the forest when they heard an ear-splitting crack, and the ground shuddered.

Nora only saw Raven's horrified face for a second, and then she was aware of nothing but the giant tree at the edge of the clearing splintering at its base, the trunk teetering and the wind egging it on, the entire thing falling, falling, falling. . . Nora shut her eyes, bracing for the impact that would surely kill them both. Her chest ached with a strange sensation that was familiar, but she didn't know how it could help them now; her gift was so uncontrollable. . .

The tree never touched them.

"_What the_ -?" Raven's shocked voice cut through the sudden, overbearing silence that now dominated in the clearing. Nora's ears were still ringing from the rushing moan of the wind. Her thoughts echoed Raven's cry of confusion. _Shouldn't we be dead by now?_

She opened her eyes to see the tree suspended in the air at a crazy angle, midway in its descent to the earth - rather, its descent to land squarely on their heads. She gaped up at it, and then she knew. _I did this_, she thought in amazement. A determination blazed through her, coupled with anger, shock, and a fierce protectiveness for Raven. If she lost this, if she somehow messed it up, the tree would fall on them anyway. She had to save them both.

Nora closed her eyes tight. It was simple. It had to be simple.

She opened them. She was filled with a strong purpose. She blinked.

The tree shivered, and for a moment it seemed as if all might be lost. Then the leaves shook even more frantically, rustling and whispering with ferocity, and the tree righted itself, settling back into its roots and its severed trunk. With a great groan, the tree mended, like nothing had ever happened.

Silence once again reined. Not even the birds made a peep. (Far away in the heart of the forest, too far to reach the ears of the trio in the clearing, another tree fell, sending smaller trees crashing to the ground as its mammoth form plummeted to the earth. The people who heard it and, later, examined the damage, could not account for why it had happened. As it was, though Gladys probably would not have been surprised by this, Nora could never have known that magic always had consequences.)

She turned to Raven, emotions zinging through her entire body. Adrenaline, excitement, pride, relief. . .

He was staring at her, uncomprehending.

A few feet away, Gladys had appeared, her face openly displaying a slew of feelings: shock, horror, awe, disbelief, and. . . _fear_?

"Ana, er, Nora. . ." Raven said faintly, shaking his head slightly. His mind was in disarray; he could hardly think straight. "Did. . . did _you_ just do that?"

"She did. She _did_. . . " Gladys raised a trembling hand to her brow, wincing. "This is wrong. . . all wrong. . ." She looked up at them, and something was different. She looked like she had decided something. The hard glint that had been in her eyes was gone.

"I can't stop you. I see that now. I don't know how you did that. . . why she wanted you. . . you're _mortal_, it makes not a _whit_ of sense. . ." She shifted, and now her face looked distant, her eyes far away. "I won't stand in your way. All I ask is one thing, just one thing." Her voice became pleading, desperate. "Don't tell her anything about me. Don't say a word. Don't even mention my name. . . maybe I'll have slipped her mind by then. . ."

Nora was about to say exactly what she was thinking, which was _I don't owe you anything_, but Gladys added, even more wretchedly, "I raised you, didn't I? I spared you; I didn't do what she _really_ wanted me to do, and you never knew. . . I couldn't go through with it, you just an innocent baby, the magic so big, so terrible. . . and now I have acted like her, I did what _she_ would have done to stop you - oh, I can't even bear to look at you anymore. I'll go. I'll go right now."

They did not understand what Gladys meant as she closed her eyes and became motionless. Her face relaxed, hands at her sides, unmoving for a long, endless second, and then -

She vanished, the same as Lucinda had done the previous night. First she was there, solid, the next she was gone, empty air. A soft breeze blew through the clearing, and Nora gasped: the cottage was disintegrating, like it was made of sand. The shed, the wood pile, even the mule were gone. All traces of habitation blew away into dust. The gentle wind lifted the ends of Nora's hair, ruffled Raven's black mop. It was like an apology. The two of them stood listening to the silence. They should have been more unbelieving, but by now they had a shard of understanding. Some things, at least, were starting to make sense.

One thing remained. In the empty spot where the cottage had stood, something was floating effortlessly to the ground where grass was creeping up and covering the bare earth. Nora saw it first, and she rushed forward to see what it was.

It touched the ground lightly as she neared it. It softly settled on top of the fresh grass. In a stronger breeze it would have blown away. Nora plucked it off the ground gingerly, holding it between two fingers. She stared at it, bewildered. Raven appeared at her elbow, and she held it up to the sun's strengthening rays so he could see.

It was a leaf. No tree from those parts had borne it, that much was immediately obvious. It was the size of Nora's hand, with a delicate, almost lacy edge. It was perfectly symmetrical, and its color was somewhere between cool, mossy green and deep, river blue. It oscillated between the two colors in the light.

Gladys's parting gift.

* * *

_**A very drawn-out series of confrontations, I know, but I had to do it to set up what is coming. _

_This chapter is shorter, like the last one, because I'll probably be updating again within a couple of days.****  
**_


	14. Partings and Beginnings

**14 - PARTINGS AND BEGINNINGS**

"When were you going to tell me?"

"Tell you. . .?"

"Don't be evasive, _Nora_." Raven put emphasis on her newly discovered name, breaking into a smile as he said it. Nora breathed out, feeling relieved. She knew exactly what Raven was asking her, but she had been afraid that he would be. . . scared? Angry?

They were trekking along the forest trail together, heading toward the village. Nora had tucked the leaf carefully into her satchel. They had, so far, not discussed anything that had happened. They had simply left the empty clearing in silence, and had been walking in the same attitude ever since. . . until now.

"Tell me. How long have you known that you could. . . could do. . . what you did?"

_Magic._ The word was too huge to speak out loud.

"I only just discovered it not two or three years ago," she said hesitantly. "I still don't really know what I can do and what I can't do. You know, the extent of it. And I don't know how or why, so don't bother asking."

Raven scrunched up his brow, thinking. Suddenly, his face cleared, and he smiled at her again, brilliantly. "Well, _I_ think it's magnificent."

Nora blinked. She had not been expecting that reaction. "Really? You don't think I'm. . . some sort of anomaly?"

"What, you mean a freak?" He laughed as Nora shoved him playfully.

His voice grew softer, more serious, but reassuring, "I would never."

Nora felt blissfully happy, then, the feeling washing over her as his words sunk in. She moved closer and gripped his arm, squeezing it as she grinned up at him. His cheeks slowly reddened, the color spreading to the tips of his ears.

His ears were still faintly pink long afterward, as they made their way into the village.

* * *

Haddora was a mountainous country, the terrain dipping from deep valleys to high peaks. Many of the villages, like the one that Nora and Raven called home, were located in the valleys. The mountain range itself stretched over three different countries, and was most often referred to as the Ceruleans. The highest peak, called the Rapier, was located on the southwestern border of Haddora. The second tallest peak, the Dagger, was only a league or two northeast of the Rapier. It was in the valley between these two mountains that the small village resided, tucked away in the deep pine forest of the foothills. It was from here that Nora and Raven would set out, but not before they consulted Barton about the odd leaf, since he was fairly well-traveled and might know its origins. This was not the only reason for their stop to the blacksmith's shop, though. They also wanted to say farewell.

Barton turned the leaf in his big hand. With movement, its colors transitioned from blue to green, and green to blue. When the leaf was still, it was only ever one or the other. It was lovely.

"Do you know where this is from?" Barton eyed them speculatively, not expecting an answer. He held the delicate thing aloft, his meaty fingers lightly pinching the stem. "This comes from a very rare tree. It only grows in one place, matter of fact. As a lad, I spent many years travelin' in the king's army. They needed a blacksmith handy, you know, to keep their swords sharp and their armor in top form. But yes, I've seen this kind of leaf before, on my travels. It's a strange tree, it is. Mountainous terrain is what it needs. Seems to grow straight from the rock. It's only found higher up, you know, where not much else grows. If you see a stand of these trees from far away, their tops look like a shimmering expanse, like the sea. The strangest sight. . ."

"What's it called?" Nora could imagine what he was describing. Her mind sketched in the details as Barton spoke.

"Seartock. You can't mistake it. It only grows on one mountain in the Ceruleans."

"Where, Barton?"

"Not in Haddora. Up north, in Norwood. Mount Spindle."

"Norwood is nothing _but_ mountains. There are no gentle valleys, there." Raven's voice did not betray any hint of nervousness, but at this statement, Nora felt enough of it for both of them. Her clumsiness would be of no help in uneven terrain and treacherous drops from rocky cliffs.

"Not much habitation, either. It's too rocky for much farming, and there's not enough vegetation for raising animals. Mostly it's just mountain goats, wolves, and the occasional griffin."

Raven and Nora looked at each other. They both knew that this place that Barton was describing was their destination. It appeared that Gladys had known where they were going to go all along, once they declared that they were going. They had not given her even the smallest hint, but yet, she had known. The leaf she conspicuously left behind was her clue for them, a last act of pittance, since they had not the smallest idea of where Cassandra was, or where she resided. The leaf pointed to Mount Spindle, then. What else could it have meant?

* * *

The mountain rock of the Cerulean range had a layer of blue quartz interspersed with gray granite, which, from far away, made the slopes look a strange, watery blue. The rock exposed to the elements wasn't worth much; it was too weathered. It was the stuff that was buried deep in the mountains, sparkling as blue as a summer sky, that was the real prize. It was difficult to find, and even more difficult to mine. It was only the gnomes who acquired it, and though they were possessive of their plunder, they were willing to trade if the bargain seemed to favor them.

Trading was one of the chief industries in Haddora. Merchants would barter with the gnomes and peasants (who mined the plentiful and readily available granite, of no interest to the gnomes, who only had eyes for things that sparkled), and then turn around and make their living selling and trading mountain rock. The granite was good for building, and the Cerulean quartz was as prized as any diamond or ruby. A piece of jewelry with a stone of Cerulean quartz was worth quite a pretty penny, and was often a mark of high status in Haddora.

When, upon parting, Barton presented Raven with just such a necklace, the blue stone set into a pendant of fine silver, they could hardly believe it.

"I never told you, lad, but this was with you when I found you - how long has it been? Twelve years ago? As I recollect, it dropped out of your pocket when you got on my horse. You never noticed, and even if you did, I doubt you'd have remembered why you had it. I've been savin' it for you, in a secret place, for it's worth more than I will probably earn in twenty years. . . It's even more rare now, since the gnomes were banned from mining the quartz."

This was a topic that was bitterly disputed among the denizens of Haddora. The ban had had a chain effect, since so many other occupations depended upon the acquirement of the stone. Traders, merchants, jewelry-makers, and others who mainly depended on the quartz for business eventually had to find other ways and means to survive. The economy had suffered for it, and the after-effects were still evident, five years after King Nathaniel had inexplicably ordered the ban. It had dumbfounded the people, but then again, most of King Nathaniel's actions seemed to have that effect.

"But. . . I don't -" Raven sputtered.

"Maybe this will help you, I don't know. You can always sell it. I do think, though, that it might have somethin' to do with where you came from, or who your people are. I hope I wasn't wrong in not showin' it to you 'til now."

"I. . . I understand," Raven said slowly. "I don't think I was ready for all of this, before. I think. . . I think now is the right time." He threw Nora a secret look. They hadn't told Barton everything, just that they wanted to find out more, if they could, about their collective pasts, and maybe have a little adventure while they were at it. Of course, Barton wanted to help, and had provided them with a few useful things, too: a small dagger for Nora, light and sharp; a detailed map of the mountainous country surrounding Haddora; and a bow with a quiver of arrows for Raven, who was skilled at hunting small game.

Nora caught the twinkle in Barton's eye. "You always knew that he would leave someday, didn't you?" she said, starting to smile.

"Of course I did. He was always a curious one, and you two have a nose for adventure, between the pair of you. Runnin' all over the countryside, gettin' into who knows what kind of mischief. . . I'm only surprised you didn't leave sooner."

Nora felt a warmth in her heart for this kind man, whom she would certainly miss. She had never given it a second thought before, but now she realized that he had always had an eye out for her well-being. Countless times he had interfered when Gladys was on the rampage, and he was probably the sole reason that she and Raven had been able to keep up their friendship. She reached out and hugged him, and when she pulled away, his bright blue eyes were glistening, his beard twitching.

"Don't mind me. . . I've got somethin' in my eye." Raven seemed to have something in his eye as well, as he gave Barton a watery smile. Nora handed a handkerchief to Barton, and then quietly left them so they could part in private. She knew that they would want to say a few words to each other.

She tucked her new blade into her boot, strapping it to her ankle with a bit of thin rope. It felt strange, having it there, but also reassuring. She didn't know if she could use it, if she had to. She hoped that their journey would be free of such travails, but then again, it was a wide, wide world, and she was naive and sheltered, having never stepped a foot outside of the forest surrounding the village. There was a lot she didn't know, and dangers in the world that she never could have imagined.

* * *

The sun was still high in the sky when they left the village, taking the road north. For the first few hours, it was rather well-traveled. They passed many a plain coach or a solitary man on horseback as they walked farther and farther along. A few small hamlets and villages dotted the road, but they did not stop. When, in the late afternoon, they reached a fork in the road, they both knew that this was the point of no return. The minute that they chose either the left or the right fork was the minute that they passed into unknown territory; this was the farthest that either of them had ever been from home.

The right fork went east, skirting Mount Dagger. It would take a traveler straight to the capital, to the heart of Haddora.

The left fork continued north, on a slow but steady incline, up into the mountains. There was only a slight hesitation, a pause in their step, before they pointed their feet in this direction.

* * *

"You were high-born, Raven."

They had been walking in silence for some time, both lost in thought. Nora spoke this aloud as if there hadn't been any lull in conversation.

Raven did not reply.

"Only the wealthy own Cerulean quartz."

Raven merely glanced at her, his eyes unreadable.

"_Noland_. That is not the name of a common peasant."

The path they were climbing was steep and rocky. He turned and took her hand, helping her over some jutting rocks, still not speaking. He did not let go of her hand right away, and she took advantage. She pulled him so that he was facing her and looked into his face searchingly.

"We're going to find out. I don't care how long it takes."

He looked down at her. "That's what I'm worried about."

They simply gazed at each other in silence. A slight crease formed between Nora's brows, but Raven's face remained smooth. Even when he told her, outright, that he was worried, not a trace of it was evidenced at all in his demeanor. Unflappable and relaxed was how he always appeared. Nora knew better.

More pressing to both of their minds was the matter of Cassandra. Gladys had not made her seem like the most. . . approachable. . . of people. She sounded powerful, not to mention dangerous. Nora hoped that Gladys had been overstating. If not, they were surely walking straight into peril, and the most frightening kind at that: the unknown.

They knew this, but they doggedly walk onward, anyway. All signs pointed to Cassandra, whoever she was. Whatever she knew, they needed to know, too. They would not have any peace until then. For all Nora knew, her parents might be out in the world somewhere, alive and well, maybe even looking for her, as she was looking for them.

Eventually Raven shifted, turning and walking on, pulling Nora behind him.

"Come on. I don't like the looks of this wood. Let's hope we come upon a better place by nightfall to camp, lest we be beset by wolves - or who knows what else."


	15. The Village Fair

_**I've been surprisingly busy lately, but I write as often as I can. I hope this longer chapter will make up for the length of time between updates. (I think it's my longest one yet!)  
_

_Thanks again to those who take the time to review. Your comments always, always, always motivate me and encourage me, and your kindness is simply unbelievable.**_

* * *

**15 - THE VILLAGE FAIR**

They had not met any wolves, or any other creatures, for that matter, for the past two days. They walked as far as they could in the daylight, and at night they made camp in some unobtrusive place off the road. They tried to forage as much as they could instead of using up the stores of food they had brought with them. Raven was a good hunter, and often they roasted meat that he had shot with his bow and arrow over a small campfire. Nora was good at finding wild mushrooms or berries, and often they had a handful or two of this fare to supplement their meals.

They were both rather happy to be out in the wilderness, relying only on themselves and each other. They had never experienced such freedom before. It was refreshing, revitalizing. As they walked, they would tell stories, each trying to outdo the other with the extravagance and color of their retelling. The tales they chose were well-known fables and myths that they both had heard hundreds of times, whether from Barton or the local storyteller.

More than its mountains, Haddora was known for its stories and its storytellers. The occupations of scribe, bard, and minstrel were held to high esteem, even higher than the most well-to-do merchant who traded in the finest Cerulean quartz. The most treasured place in all Haddora was the famed king's library, which held the most wondrous collection of histories, stories, fables, and myths in the whole kingdom.

At the royal court, scribes were present for all occasions, faithfully copying the details of events in ink. Minstrels were found everywhere in the larger cities, and many traveled the country roads, stopping in the villages to entertain with their story songs. Bards were present at the greatest ceremonies, recounting the legends and history of Haddora in epic verse that they composed. In every village there was at least one storyteller who would regale the villagers with the most popular local stories around a roaring bonfire.

The people of Haddora lived and died by stories: on birthdays, the tale of the events surrounding the person's birth was recounted, and at funerals, the life story of the deceased was recited with solemnity. If the details of the life were a little uneventful, so be it. Everyone had a story, and every story was told.

Nora was particularly good at spinning yarns, as Raven liked to call it. Ever since they were children, he had often made her recount various tales, especially the ones they had heard at the village bonfires that he liked. Though she put a different spin on them, she was very skilled in the telling, greatly aided by the breadth of her imagination.

As they made their way ever onward and upward by degrees, she was telling the tale of the dragon and the peasant farmer. It was rather long, and passed the time as they traveled quite agreeably. She did different voices for the characters, and changed the story a bit to make the dragon the one to earn sympathy.

"And as Riordan neared the farm, beating his great wings, he saw tiny specks littering the fields. He realized, too late, that they were the farmer and the whole of the village, raising pitchforks and shouting for his death. In despair, he searched for a clear landing, hoping not to hurt anyone in the process. He had never wanted any of this -"

A voice abruptly sounded from somewhere behind them. "That is not how the story goes."

Both Nora and Raven started, turning to look to discover the source. There, a few feet behind them, leaning casually against a tree, was a young man. He grinned at them. "As I recall, the dragon made off with the farmer's prized livestock, and when the farmer put up a fuss, Riordan roasted the entire farm with one puff of fire."

Nora drew up, straightening her shoulders. "I'll tell the story any way I like, if you so please. Personally, I've always thought the original a little biased."

"Biased! Dragons are not known to be sensitive _or_ kind creatures, lass. Tell me, have you ever met one and been proven otherwise?"

Nora's face turned a delicate pink, but she looked the youth straight in the eye, maintaining her serenity. "No, of course not. But that doesn't mean that they aren't misunderstood creatures."

To her surprise and Raven's (who had been looking on this exchange with a mixture of amusement and guardedness), the young man laughed heartily in response, his head thrown back. "Oh, you've got some spirit, don't you? Never would have guessed; you look so quiet and docile. I like that." He pushed away from his tree. "Well met, then, friends! I am Phillip."

He moved toward them, holding out his hand. Raven glanced at Nora, shrugged, and then gripped Phillip's hand in greeting. "Raven," he said, smiling genially. Phillip grinned back, then turned to Nora. She glared at him for a few seconds, and then huffed and offered her own hand. To her surprise, and Raven's consternation, Phillip took it, bent over it, and kissed it. He straightened, a wicked gleam in his brown eyes.

"Might the lady deign to tell me her name, as well?"

"Nora," she mumbled, refusing to banter with the upstart a second longer. The nerve of him!

"Where are you headed?" Phillip addressed Raven, as he seemed to sense friendlier ground there. He glanced at Nora, though, and the corner of his mouth twitched like he was suppressing a smile.

Raven noticed, feeling a little disgruntled, but was all that was calm and affable as he answered. "Norwood. Mount Spindle, to be exact."

"Mount Spindle! What on earth could you want there? Not a soul to be found, and barely any other living creature. Why -" he cut off, seeing the guarded looks on the faces of his new acquaintances. "No matter," he continued cheerfully, "whatever your intent or purpose, I won't pry. Myself, I'm traveling with some companions to the capitol. They're not far off, making camp. We've stopped to enjoy the fare of the festival in Windmere."

"Windmere? Is it nearby, then?" Raven fumbled for the map in his pack.

Phillip hooked his thumbs through his belt and squinted vaguely into the forest, finally nodding his head toward the east. "About one league that way, give or take. The festival is famous 'round these parts. Surely you've heard of it?"

Nora shook her head. "We're not from '_these parts_.' We come from the south. In fact, neither of us have ever been his far north."

Phillip grinned. "Ah, well then, if you can delay your travels for a night or two, I'd urge you to do so. The Firelight Festival is the best entertainment all year in this part of the country, for my money. The best storyteller in Haddora lived for many years in Windmere, you know, and he returns every year for the festival in his honor. Surely you've heard of Ereare the Round?"

Nora's eyes widened with delight, and Raven smiled broadly. Ereare the Round was known throughout Haddora as the most famous storyteller. He was originally from Ayortha, it was said, and having such a background, he intermixed with his stories the most delightful songs, which he performed in his rich, robust tenor. Added to this, he could throw his voice quite skillfully to match the tones of a character, whether it be an old witch, powerful hero, or little girl. He wove magic with every word that left his lips. He now lived in the castle in Dora, the capitol, where he was commissioned for the constant entertainment of the nobility.

Phillip took their reactions as confirmation and continued eagerly, "Well, will you join my party in Windmere, then? Ereare is sure to tell a few doozies, and there will be spiced cider and roasted goose and plum pies and every good thing imaginable, not to mention dancing and games and contests."

Raven didn't need to confer with Nora. They had traveled many miles - a break would be welcome. Not to mention, it was not often that one met with a chance to see one of the most famous storytellers.

Phillip seemed like an all right sort of fellow, if a bit forward. Raven liked him despite his seeming interest in Nora. He could not begrudge Phillip this, though, because Raven was thoroughly interested himself.

"We'll be there, and gladly!"

* * *

Phillip's party was camping just outside the confines of Windmere, so they headed east in that direction, postponing their northward goal with no qualms about losing time. In truth, both Nora and Raven were secretly pleased to put off unknown danger for a day or two. The prospect of the festival was too tempting.

Windmere turned out to be around a league from the main road. Along the way, they learned much about Phillip, who kept up a steady stream of questions and conversation. At first he walked on the other side of Raven, letting Nora cool towards him a bit before he refreshed his attentions to her. He had been chatting with Raven about the blacksmith's trade, and when that topic died down, he subtly lessened his steps until he lagged a few paces behind, and then hurried to walk at Nora's side.

He glanced at her sidelong before carefully saying, "Might I remark on the color of your eyes? I've never seen any of that shade before."

This was not new to Nora. Most people commented on their violet hue, and it didn't bother her. She said as much to Phillip in return. Gaining confidence from her civil reply, he returned to the bold manner that they were growing used to from him. "Well, all the same, they're very beautiful," he said, without a trace of shyness or false flattery.

Nora was silent at this, but her face showed her embarrassment. For Raven's part, he didn't like how closely Phillip was walking next to her, or how he would rush to help her over large tree roots or protruding rocks in the path before Raven could raise a finger. He didn't like how Phillip kept glancing at Nora, his expression interested and appraising. Raven quickly turned the conversation away from Nora and onto Phillip to distract him.

"You said your party is traveling to the capital. Is there a specific purpose, or are you traveling there for leisure?"

"A specific purpose is our business there. It is a rather long story, though."

"We don't mind," Raven encouraged, and even Nora nodded enthusiastically.

Phillip frowned with his eyes on the road at their feet, obviously thinking where to start. He clasped his hands behind his back as they walked, affecting a thoughtful pose.

"Well then," he began, "We come from a town on the very western border of Haddora, up in the mountains. Mining and trading mountain rock are our life blood. Ever since King Nathaniel banned the gnomes from mining in Haddora, our town has been in serious trouble. The men have had to start traveling to distant cities to find work and send money home. There is no land to farm or raise animals in the mountains, besides a few goats. The soil is too poor and rocky. There is no way to survive but to depend on the rock, and, as you know, much of what is traded is the quartz, which only the gnomes know how to mine. The king may as well have sentenced us all to poverty and starvation when he ordered that ban. Can you guess why a party of us is traveling to the capital, then?"

"You're going to petition the king?"

"That we are, and we won't step down until he at least listens to our concerns."

"That is very noble. Did the town choose the group and send you all, then?" Nora was genuinely interested, now.

Phillip drew up, rather proudly. "No. It was my idea, and I persuaded a few friends to join me. Truly, we are in a desolate state back home, and _some_ action needs to be taken. With most of the men away, I felt it was my duty to speak up."

Raven was nodding in agreement. He would have done the same thing - he hoped. Nora was indignant. "Think of how this ban must affect _all_ of Haddora. I'm shocked at the king! Isn't it common sense? A prejudice against gnomes is no reason to put the entire country at risk!"

"Indeed, what on earth could his reasons have been?" Raven wondered. "I refuse to think that something as base as prejudice moved him to act in such a way, especially when the gnomes have always worked alongside Haddorans in the mountains."

Nora continued, "I'm glad you're going, Phillip. It's the right thing to do. Surely other towns and villages in the same predicament have had the same idea, so there will probably be many voices to chime in with yours. I hope you'll meet with success. I'm sure if you speak your case eloquently, the king will at least consider it."

Phillip only smiled at her sadly. "Thank you for your optimism, but apparently you aren't familiar with the king's whims. I'm afraid it will be much harder than that."

Nora looked confused. "Why? I do admit that I know little about politics, but surely he would at least listen? He isn't a tyrant. Not yet, at least."

Phillip sighed. "No, he isn't a tyrant, but he isn't all that stable, either. My father says that ever since his wife and son died, he hasn't been the same man. I've heard many say that he's lost his mind."

There was a slight pause.

"I didn't know he ever had a family," Raven finally said.

"Oh yes, he did," said Phillip. "My father told me all about it. A young wife, Queen Nerina, and their little son. She died soon after childbirth, and the boy followed her a few years later, of a fever."

"How sad..." Nora said softly.

"Tragic, yes. After that, everything changed.

"How?"

"Well, as I said, I only have it secondhand, from my father. But my father says that the king stopped appearing in public. Back in the old days, he used to hear all of the grievances and disputes of the people himself, in the throne room of the castle. He used to visit the towns and villages and walk among the commoners.

When I was seven or eight, I remember he was touring the western cities, and while in my town, came to my father's cart and spoke with him as if they were just two ordinary men having a chat on market day. When he disappeared from the public eye, people put it down as his mourning period, one that would soon pass. It never did. He hasn't been seen for years - by none of the common folk, at least."

"That's true." Raven looked like his eyes had just been opened. "_I've_ never seen him, but that's because I've hardly left my own village. But Barton, he's been all over the country, to the capital countless times, and even _he_ has never seen the king."

"But Phillip," Nora interjected, "How do you expect to have an audience with the king if he never shows himself in public?"

"There she goes again. Quite clever, isn't she, Raven?"

Raven answered, quite honestly and without a hint of teasing, "Yes, she is."

Nora ignored them both, patiently waiting for an answer. Phillip continued to tease her for some time about how large her head had to be in order to contain her humongous brain (Raven laughed along gamely, but felt a tiny twinge of resentment; teasing Nora was _his _territory), but eventually sobered enough to answer seriously. "We will either demand to see him until they throw us out, or take up our problem with some lesser person under the king, and hopefully they will relay our message to him. We'll figure something out."

The conversation ended there, as the outskirts of Windmere were in sight, and all of a sudden the only thing that the three young people could think of was how empty their stomachs were.

* * *

Nora was being whirled and spun all over the dance floor, and never had she felt more wild and carefree. She let out a laugh as her partner twirled her again. The country dance picked up speed with the frenetic energy of the musicians. Then, almost as abruptly as it had started, the music ended with a clamorous final note.

Nora could not catch her breath as she bowed to her partner, a broad-shouldered man with fair, shoulder-length hair and a closely clipped beard. "Well, maid, now that I've made all of the lads in the room jealous, I'd best dash off and let them have at you!" He winked at her astonished expression, and then was overtaken by a sweet-looking, tiny woman, who smiled at Nora with amusement.

"Come, Thomas, it's time you danced with your wife."

"Ah, indeed it is, my sweet." He winked at Nora once more, and then whirled the other woman away in his arms as she shrieked and giggled.

Nora stood alone in the center of the large barn, which had been converted into a country ballroom. Straw still littered the wooden floor here and there, and bales of it were pushed up against the walls. People sat on them comfortably, watching the dancing and drinking ale and spiced cider. Couples moved throughout the room, bathed in the glowing light from lanterns strung up above their heads. More voices and merriment could be heard from outside as well, where people were playing games and stuffing their faces.

Earlier that day, Nora, Raven, and Phillip had eaten their fill and seen the marvelous Ereare the Round perform. Ereare was a fat man with rosy, merry cheeks - probably from his fondness for ale - and a snow-white beard. His name, it appeared, was well-earned. Nora had found his appearance amusing at first, but that quickly changed when he began his story.

She had immediately lost herself in his voice, which was everything a good storyteller's should be: resonant, musical, and clear. His words enchanted and enraptured his audience, and soon one could have heard a pin drop, such was the attentiveness of the crowd. He broke into song at least four times, accompanied by a lute, and never had Nora been more thoroughly entertained.

At the end of the tale, the cheering of the crowd was deafening, and people threw gold pieces and flowers as Ereare exited, bowing with pronounced flourishes and a proud smile. Raven and Nora had talked of the performance together nonstop over their meal of turkey legs, apple cake and cider, and afterward they met Phillip's companions.

Thomas and his wife, Berta, were two of seven in the party of travelers accompanying Phillip. He had introduced Nora and Raven briefly to all of them, and they had managed to become a little acquainted before the dancing had begun. There had been the fair-haired couple, a burly man named Rob and his burlier brother Donald, and Phillip's cousins, Greta and Gregory.

Greta, Nora had noticed, was rather pretty. She was small but sturdy, with an enviable hourglass figure. Her doe-like eyes were shaded a warm, inviting brown, like her cousin Phillip's. Her hair was a rich fall of auburn, straight and shining. Nora tried to gauge Raven's reaction to Greta as they were introduced, but as usual, his face gave away nothing.

Nora turned on the dance floor, intending to take a seat in some unobtrusive spot and watch the dancers for awhile, but out of the corner of her eye she saw Greta dancing with a tall young man. Nora slyly sneaked a glance, and then froze. Greta was dancing with Raven.

She felt the heat rise in her cheeks, and her stomach all of a sudden seemed to be trying to escape from her body. _It's nothing_, she scolded herself. _He can dance with any maiden he chooses, it does not concern me_. Despite these thoughts, she hurried to a corner, head down, and found herself a seat. When she had composed herself, she dared a glance back to the source of her tumultuous feelings.

Greta was laughing, looking up at Raven with more than friendliness, or at least that's how Nora saw it. Raven, meanwhile, looked like he was having fun. He smiled at his partner, and Nora felt stung. His smiles had always been reserved for her, and now here he was, bestowing them on someone else.

Nora knew she wasn't being fair. _Why shouldn't Raven smile at Greta? _she thought. _You can't keep him to yourself forever._ She turned away her face, unable to watch any more.

"Why are you sitting here all by your lonesome?"

Nora looked up. Phillip was standing before her, grinning down at her. She quickly wiped at her eyes, she hoped discreetly. The tear that came away was all that fell. How did she always end up shedding them when Raven was involved?

Phillip put his fists on his hips in mock sternness. "Come now, this won't do. You must dance with me. I insist."

Then he saw her face.

He immediately dropped his teasing demeanor, and when he took her hand, it was very gently. She didn't argue. She let him pull her up and lead her out to the floor. She tried very hard not to look in Raven's direction.

This dance was more of a line dance than a partner dance, so talk was next to impossible for awhile. Nora lost herself in the steps, the music. Then, the tune changed and the beat slowed. Phillip approached and pulled her close, as the new dance required. He led her through the steps, and she noted his skill. "You must attend thousands of country dances," she said suddenly.

He pulled up, looking at her. "What do you mean?"

"You're so sure of your steps. You must have had plenty of practice." She said this with envy. Dancing was not her forte.

He laughed, moving them across the room effortlessly. "You're very perceptive. I'll add it to the list of little things I keep learning about you. You're like a mystery that keeps unraveling."

She had never heard herself described as such before. "I don't share all of myself with the world, like some." Across the room, Greta was laughing with abandon at something Raven had said. Her loud voice carried even through the music and the clamor of the crowd. Nora felt justified, even though she was trying to make up for feeling insignificant - and ridiculously jealous.

"I wasn't criticizing. I like it. I like you." In a sly voice, Phillip added, "In fact, I fear my heart is in grave danger. If you're not careful, you might steal it, maid."

Nora stiffened. He was teasing, but there was an undertone of truth, there.

It wasn't that she didn't like him. It wasn't like he was unattractive. He was just the opposite, in fact. His eyes were that warm brown, bright with merriment most of the time. His hair was the same brown, cropped very short, all the better to display his fine, sharp features. His cheekbones were ridiculously prominent.

It wasn't anything that had to do with Phillip.

It was only as Nora stared over his shoulder and found herself looking into the eyes of another across the room that she realized who would always be first in her heart, outstripping any other potential suitor that she would ever meet, including poor Phillip.

Raven was who she would always want. It was always him. It _had_ always been him. Only him.

She loved him. The realization rang true; she felt it in every pore of her skin, every bone in her body. Her heart belonged to him.

She had never known before. She had never known herself, her own feelings. How could she have been so blind?

As they looked at each other from a distance, Raven's expression revealed something hidden, and since Nora was not accustomed to reading emotions that were plain on his face, she did not understand what it was. She looked away, feeling confused and wretched.

"I'm sorry," she said finally, softly. "_My_ heart is taken. I wish -" her voice broke, and she felt a sob in her chest. "I know you're teasing, but please don't waste your time with me. I don't mean to be harsh, truly. I do like you, Phillip..."

He shook his head. "Don't worry about me. Girls break my heart just as often as I break theirs. I'm quite used to it, you see." She peeked up at him, and his smile reassured her. "I know I've no hope, anyway. It has been quite obvious to me, since we met in the forest, that you love someone." Now she stared at him in surprise. "See," he said, the smile creeping into his voice, "I can be perceptive, too."

Nora slowly smiled back, a sisterly fondness for Phillip growing steadier in her by the minute. He was a good sort of young man. She was content to let him lead her through two more dances before she proclaimed herself tired. He was leading her back to her seat when a figure appeared beside them.

"Will Nora dance with everyone in the room but her best friend?" Raven was smiling, but that certain something was still behind his eyes. Confused by it, she didn't answer right away. His face fell a fraction. "Oh, you're tired. I see..."

She had never seen him look so dejected. What was going on? Was he going to tell her that he was in love with Greta?

Her thoughts spun wildly out of control, but she managed to answer him pleasantly enough. "No, I'm not tired. Of course I'll dance with you, silly."

He took her arm from Phillip, and, without a word, Nora was passed from one young man to the other. She threw a parting smile at Phillip, who gave her an answering smirk and a mock-salute. She turned away, shaking her head, and walked with Raven out into the dance.

Her heart was beating violently as he put one hand at her waist, grasping her right hand with his left. He twirled them around the floor, and she slowly relaxed, and apparently, so did he. With Raven, there was no need for conversation, and at intervals he would smile his brilliant smile at her.

"Oof," Raven breathed out in pain. Nora had stepped on his foot.

She winced. "I'm sorry."

"Actually, I'm impressed. That's the only time you've stepped on my foot. Usually you tread all over my poor shoes."

"That or stumble. Or accidentally trip you. It's a miracle we haven't fallen over yet."

"Not a miracle. I'm taking excellent care of you." To prove his point, he elegantly guided them through a few complicated steps, keeping his hold on her firm and steady.

"As you did with Greta," she said lightly.

"No, I didn't have to be quite so attentive." His mouth turned up at the corners. "She's not like you. She doesn't trip over things that aren't there."

"Yes, she is very graceful," Nora said sadly. Grace was one thing she would never possess, she was sure.

"There are different kinds of graces, though. You have a one-up on her, there," Raven said. Nora looked surprised at this compliment, and rather dubious. "Believe me, Greta's words aren't so graceful as yours. The things that come out of her mouth! Her manners aren't much better, either. And I've never seen such a terrible flirt."

Nora was not mollified. "You like her, though. I could tell."

"Sure I do. She can be charming, in her way. What about Phillip, though? He's brasher than anything, the most forward lad I've ever met, but _you_ seem to like _him_."

"Yes," she said, faintly. She hated where this conversation was going.

Raven frowned down at her. "Do you-?"

Before he could finish his sentence, some commotion caught Nora's eye over his shoulder. It was Phillip, doing a crazy jig, his legs flying. Another man joined in, and in seconds it was a dance-off. She smiled despite herself. Raven turned, following her gaze. When he turned back to her, his eyes were strange again. He looked at her face for a second, and then stepped away from her.

He did it so quickly Nora almost fell over her own feet. "Raven, what-?"

"I'm sorry, I - I've had enough of dancing. Please excuse me... I'm sorry." And the glimpse she caught of his face _was_ remorseful as he turned and walked away from her quickly, disappearing from her sight. The sudden change in his manner stung her. She had no idea what had just happened.

She stood in the middle of the circling dancers, the music swirling around her, talk and laughter echoing through the room. She stared after where Raven had gone.

Finally, she came to her senses. She exited the barn, not knowing or caring where her steps took her.

* * *

She did not know where or how long she had wandered until Berta caught up to her, shaking her arm. "Lass, what are you doing? It's high time you were in bed. Only the drunks are still carousing. Come, I'll lead you back to camp."

Nora only remembered collapsing onto a bedroll in Berta's small canvas tent and someone covering her with a quilt. After that, she had immediately fallen asleep.

The next morning she rose early and assisted Berta with the breakfast preparations. Raven appeared not long after, his black hair rumpled adorably from sleep, but Nora could not look at him. It hurt her to do it.

She was sure that he was either _in _love or _falling_ in love with Greta. It was the only way she could explain what had happened the previous night. His distant manner, his remorseful look, his sudden departure... Surely he could only be heartsick.

He did not speak to her, and she let him have his space. When he was ready to tell her, she would listen, even if it broke her heart. She had to bear up, though. If Raven would be happy, so would Nora. It would be best to start reconciling herself to his love for another, now.

Even when they packed up their things and prepared to depart, still they did not speak.

Phillip took Nora aside and presented her with a new quill and ink in a smart little case, bought at one of the fair booths. She thanked him profusely, but he only said, "I expect you _both_ to write to me, as I will write to you. Take care to address your letters to Dora, for that is where I will be for awhile, dredged up in our cause. I'll inform you if and when I depart from there. As for you, where shall I post messages to you?"

"I'm afraid we'll be traveling for awhile. If you address your letters to Barton of Foothill Knell, he'll keep them for us until we can read them."

He nodded. "Maybe we can meet again soon? Say, in a month or two? Try to come to Dora if you can, at least."

"I can't promise anything, but we will try." She gave him a smile.

"That is all I ask. Farewell, Nora the Mysterious." He took her hand and raised it to his lips with a wink.

Nora laughed. "Farewell, Phillip." She really would miss him. She had always wanted a sibling.

Off in the distance, Raven was saying farewell to Greta. Nora turned her back on them, waiting silently by the road. Eventually, she heard Raven's steps approaching. She turned, waving goodbye to the group one last time.

Berta was waving a hankie, and Thomas was shouting at them to take care on the road. Phillip waved both hands over his head, and Greta seemed to be directing her pretty wave only at Raven. The others called genial goodbyes.

With that, still not speaking, without even glancing at each other, Raven and Nora moved on, heading north once more.


	16. The Warning

**16 - THE WARNING**

The next four days were miserable. Nora and Raven barely talked to each other, except when necessity forced them to speak.

When Nora spoke, it was very quietly, with a new hesitance that had never been there before. Raven spoke as he did at any other time: optimistically and realistically, his voice light and carefree. The difference, for him, was the amount of words that left his mouth.

To an outsider, the situation would have been almost comical. Each was in exactly the same dilemma as the other. Each was afraid to speak, hoping that the other would break the ice first. Each was a little miffed that the other was taking so long.

Both were afraid that the objects of their hearts, each other, were longing for persons left behind. Both were extraordinarily careful not to let this be known.

And so, in this rather stupid manner, they remained miserable and silent. So it went, so it goes: young people never _were_ the best at navigating their own hearts, and probably never will be.

* * *

The air got chiller as they reached higher altitudes. The slow, inching incline of the road they were taking abruptly changed; now there were steep, sharp hills, a rockier path, and sometimes, when the road curved, one side would end in a steep drop to a valley below. The trees changed, too. The mammoth pines of the lower lands changed into hardier, smaller specimens; still tall, but more spread out. The grass came up only in spare clumps, and a mist clung to the dips of the land, snaking out to obscure the path when they least expected.

In this quieter terrain, bereft of many of the familiar noises, such as birds calling, tree branches rustling together, or the rush of water, the silence was deafening. Many times, when Nora would move ahead of Raven to inspect a bush for berries or investigate a clump of grass for some wild plant, he would stare at her back desperately, urging himself fervently to just say _something_.

Just now she was bending to inspect a leafy plant that looked like the top of some kind of wild root, like parsnips or carrots. Her appearance had dissolved into a new state of disrepair. Her braid was loose and coming undone, her wild dark waves escaping the once-tidy plait. She had not combed it out for days. Her dark blue gown was stained and dirty with travel, the hem muddied and torn. Her hands were filthy as they delicately inspected the plants, and her cheeks were smudged with dust, obscuring her freckles. Neither of them had been able to have a good washing up for awhile; Raven knew he was probably even filthier.

She was still the prettiest thing he had ever seen. Why did she always have to appeal to him so? Even now, looking as she did (like she had just rolled out of the pigpen), he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her dusty cheek, her sad mouth...

He shook his head. It was never to be. Even so, he had to speak. This silence was torture.

_Come on, out with it! You know what she'll say; that should lessen the blow of hearing the words, _he thought. For he knew that she had formed a bond with Phillip, that she might possibly be falling in love, and that he was too late - his chance to tell her how he felt about her: gone. He had waited too long. He had been too cautious, too nervous that it would ruin everything. Her sweet manner to him in the days preceding the festival, when they weren't bantering or teasing each other, had encouraged him, but he had remained a coward.

He had known it was too late when he saw her smile at Phillip during the dance. It had been like an arrow to his heart.

He reached up to his neck, pulling out the pendant of Cerulean quartz that hung under his tunic. He gripped it like a touchstone. He had been wearing it ever since he had gotten it, out of sight. Maybe it was foolish, because it was so valuable, but he felt like it brought him closer to his forgotten past, closer to himself. He felt a tiny bit stronger when he touched it.

His thoughts were shouting at him as he stood in the road, staring at Nora's bent form.

_Why did I wait? Why did I ever -_

They never finished, because at that moment two gnomes appeared at the top of the next rise in the road.

They were hurrying along rather fast, Raven thought. "Nora," he said, keeping his voice low. She turned toward him with surprise, a questioning look on her face, and he nodded his head toward the approaching party. She stood up and looked, raising her eyebrows. Silently, she moved to stand a few feet away from him. Before, she would have come up to his side, maybe touched his shoulder, but now there was a wall in the way.

They stood still, waiting.

It did not take long for the gnomes to notice them, and they stopped. They looked at Raven and Nora, and then conferred together for a few minutes in their own tongue. Raven could hear snatches of strange words, the pitch of their voices strained and anxious. They finally approached, this time at a much slower pace. The two gnomes stopped a few feet away, and there was silence for a minute.

"Greetings," said one hesitantly, in a perfect Haddoran dialect, a variant of the Kyrrian tongue.

Most foreigners reverted to old Kyrrian, since it was the more dominant version of the language, so this was surprising. The gnome's accent was barely discernible. He was obviously fluent, or had been a resident for a long time.

He appeared older than the other, as he was wider in girth and more wrinkled. His brown beard was peppered with gray. Other than that, the two of them were hard to distinguish from each other. Both were barely as tall as Nora, stout and stocky, with wide, round faces set with wrinkles upon wrinkles. Their shrewd eyes took in their surroundings, and their thick beards obscured much of their barrel-like chests. On their backs they carried packs, onto which were strapped the tools of their trade: picks, shovels, and hammers.

"Hello," Raven replied, friendliness evident in his manner. It was an unspoken agreement between he and Nora that he be the one to speak to strangers first. His personality and way of speaking was such that he usually set people right at ease.

"We do not mean to stop for long, but we thought it would be incumbent on us, as friendly creatures, to warn you not to tarry on this road," the first gnome said.

Raven started at the blunt, unexpectedness of this sentence, involuntarily glancing at Nora. She had begun to frown, and her eyes were roving over the countryside around them, searching for hidden dangers. Raven knew why: the gnome's voice held a note of barely concealed fear.

"We do not tarry; we have only stopped for a few minutes to rest," he replied slowly.

"You misunderstand me. If you can, I would choose a different way. This road is not safe." The gnome kept his eyes on them, steady, but the other was nervously glancing around, shifting from one foot to the other. It was apparent that he wanted to be on their way.

"There is no other path... at least not one that is passable, and we are not familiar with this part of the country."

"It is none of my concern whether or not you heed us, of course, but we felt it our duty to at least stop and advise you. We did not expect to see any other travelers, and neither of us could rest easy knowing that we did nothing to stop others from walking into danger."

"That is good of you. We do appreciate it. Rest assured that we have taken in what you've said, and will fully consider it as we go forward," Raven said, eager to show that he and Nora were not just stupid children jaunting into Norwood without a thought, as he was sure the gnomes saw them this way.

"You would do well to follow it, not just consider it." The creature frowned. At least, his beard twitched in a downward direction. "We are strangers, but I assure you that we mean well. We have no reason to lead fellow travelers astray."

The other gnome, the one who had not spoken, tugged on the speaker's sleeve, and said something to him in Gnomic. The speaker's frown deepened, but turned back to Raven at the insistence of his companion.

"ghrenaphH wants me to convey something he has Seen." His dark eyes darted to Nora, then back to Raven. "He says that you must stay close to the girl... He sees a large, dark figure looming over her. Danger awaits her if you continue." ghrenaphH was now staring at Nora, nodding solemnly. "All the better to take our advice and abandon this path," the elder added.

Raven almost couldn't speak. "W-what kind of looming figure?" He could not look at the girl next to him, lest he be tempted to do something outrageous, like throw her over his shoulder without a word and run back the way they had come. Unconsciously, he shifted toward her, minutely closing the few feet that separated them.

"Unfortunately, that is all the detail he can convey to you. Most of us are not very clear-sighted, when it comes to the future. ghrenaphH only sees shadows."

Raven finally dared a glance down at Nora. She was very stiff at his side, unmoving, staring at the two gnomes in front of them. He couldn't tell what she was thinking.

There was a slight pause, and the elder gnome narrowed his eyes at Raven, frowning. Raven was puzzled for a second, but then realized that the gnome was staring at his chest. Raven reached up to hold the pendant he had received from Barton in his hand. The sky-blue stone set in the center glimmered faintly in the overcast light. He had forgotten to tuck it away safely, earlier.

"I'd be more careful about that, if I were you."

Raven quickly hid it back under his shirt.

"Do you know how valuable that is, boy?" The gnome's flinty eyes were penetrating.

"I have an idea, yes."

The wide, bearded head shook from side to side. "I don't think you do."

"What do you mean?"

"Whatever you do, keep that out of sight, and _keep it on_."

"I -"

"Trust me. Every stone has its properties."

Raven was baffled, but did not question further. If anyone know about rocks or stones, it was gnomes. It was said that they had their own store of knowledge, garnered from their mining and collecting, and they did not often share it with humans. The fact that the gnome had even given a hint of what he knew was practically a gift.

"And now, we really must be off. Take care, young ones. I do hope you heed our warning." Both gnomes lifted their hats in parting, and Raven had barely touched his fingers to his temple in return before they were already hurrying past. He turned and watched as they swiftly got smaller and smaller in the distance, before another turn in the path swallowed them up.

* * *

Raven had plenty of misgivings about commencing their pursuit of the road after that, all involving only Nora's safety, but he had not said a word. Nora hadn't either; she had simply started walking again, a sort of stubborn look on her face. At first, he had wanted to voice all of his concerns to her, but found that he couldn't, and not just because they weren't speaking. As much as he worried over the danger, he agreed with her.

There was no choice. They had to continue.

They were pushed ever onward by a force that they could not name. Perhaps it was a pure desire for the truth. Perhaps it was because both of them were lost, in a way, with no tangible ties to connect them to any of their own, true kin. Those pages of their stories were blank. They had each other, but neither of them currently took comfort in that fact, as the situation stood.

The wall between them seemed to grow thicker and more difficult to breach. Neither of them understood that, if just one of them _tried_ to put a crack in the barrier, the whole thing would come crumbling down. This misunderstanding was partly why they became more determined to continue. They were clinging to the possibility of what they might learn, rather than living in the present, where things were in upheaval.

There were other reasons for continuing, though, all far more valid than a desperate need for knowledge.

To stray from the path to seek an alternative route would be too dangerous. They could easily get lost in the wild mountains. The countryside they were traveling through was eerie and strange. The mists crept in without warning, and often they could not see their own feet on the path. They had to stop and wait until it dissipated, or go slowly and carefully on their way, feeling for the road with their boots and straining to see a few feet in front of them. This wasn't always fool-proof, though; often, when the mist was swept away, they found themselves far off the road, and they had to hurry to reclaim it. After a few episodes of this, they stopped and waited whenever the mist set upon them.

If they went tramping into the wild, the mist would only confuse and lead them astray. They might never find a path again.

Furthermore, they felt that they were too close to give up. They knew this because, not four hours after their encounter with the gnomes, they saw a stand of seartock.

The hill they were climbing was all rocks and patches of bluish grass raggedly growing through the cracks. The path determinedly cut through it. They were high up, now - in the far distance, down below, they could see hazy, dark patches of green beyond lower hills. It was the tall pine forests that they had passed through many days before. They stood at the top of the rise, looking back. The mist moved in again as they paused, so they had to wait.

To the north, the hills - if one could call them that - rose up before them, craggy and ominous-looking. The mist drifted, obscuring the lower lands. Their gaze moved upward, and Raven spotted them first: shimmering in the distance, like a sea suspended in the air, were the tops of a group of the strange trees, the seartock.

They clung to the edge of a steep rock face almost obstinately. The wind came up, clearing the mist, and the leaves waved in the breeze. From far away, the motion looked startlingly like waves on a placid, blue-green sea. The only attribute that made the seartock seem solid and real were the twisted, gray-brown trunks that held the leaves. The gnarled, bending things looked as if they had sprung straight from the rock.

Both Nora and Raven knew what this meant. They had left behind Haddora some time ago. Now they were in Norwood, looking upon the very rock of Mount Spindle.

The warning that the gnomes had given couldn't be completely ignored. It flitted across both of their minds at random intervals, unbidden. Raven wished that he had been able to get them to be more specific about the danger, but the encounter had been so odd and so brief that there had barely been a chance to get in the right questions. His gaze kept moving in Nora's direction. The "dark, looming figure" was what he was most worried about.

When would it come, if it did? What form would it take? Would he be able to protect her? His thoughts strayed to the day that Gladys had disappeared - the wind, the huge tree righting itself, Nora's triumphant expression... Maybe he wouldn't have to save her, if it came down to it.

She stumbled on a rock just then, and he quickly reached out and caught her. He righted her, promptly removing his hands from her shoulders when she was steady. He thought he heard her let out a little sigh when he did so, but it was probably just the wind...

_Still, she does need_ _me_, he decided._ I'll look after her as best I can. Maybe the gnomes were wrong..._

Typical as ever, Raven tried to convince himself that it would be alright, even though they were ignoring every sensible objection that told them to end their pursuit. Reckless, adventurous, headstrong, brave, foolish... there was no telling which adjective would describe them in the end, as they wended their way on that long, winding path into the unknown.

* * *

Mount Spindle was, undoubtedly, the largest in the entire Cerulean range. They traveled for another whole day, and still they had not eclipsed the base. They were in a valley of sorts, and were making their way through a gloomy, stunted pine wood. The trees stood far apart, evenly spaced, looking like sentinels. A trace of the dreaded mist whispered around their ankles. All was silent and still. Beyond the trees, at the edge of the wood, Raven thought he could see, faintly, a body of water.

The next instant, the ground trembled under their feet. Raven stopped abruptly, and Nora, who had been a few paces behind him, bumped into him.

"_Ouch_!" The word echoed around them, seeming louder than it really was. Raven turned around, putting his finger to his lips urgently. Nora was wincing at having caused so much noise, but only because the silence of the mountain was so heavy. It seemed sacrilegious to break it, and who knew what that would alert to their presence?

Raven stood still, trying to convince himself that he had imagined the jolt through the earth. A sense of dread filled him as he looked at Nora, and then back through the trees.

The ground trembled again, with a sound in the distance accompanying it, almost like a muffled booming. It seemed to be coming from somewhere behind them. There was no mistaking it. The hairs rose on the back of Raven's neck. His eyes sought Nora's - she stared back at him in fear._ Oh, no. _He didn't know what to do - should they hide? Run? Hope that it did not come near?

"What is it?" she mouthed frantically, her voice inaudible. Raven could only shake his head. Another thump shook the ground, and it sounded closer. Raven felt adrenaline pumping through his veins. The unknown thing was out there.

_Is this what the gnomes were warning us about?_ He reached out, snatching up Nora's hand in his own. He yanked her close to his side. She did not protest, but only moved nearer, holding his arm in a vice-like grip with her other hand. The voice of the gnome echoed in both of their heads: _"... Stay close to the girl... Dark, looming figure..."_

For a few tense, agonizing minutes, nothing happened. Then -

A shadow passed over their heads. It was huge, and Raven looked all around him, full of panic, before he realized he should be looking _up_ -

The rush of moving air, the sound of wings flapping, much too loud to be a bird or griffin, and a wind stirring up, blasting them in the face -

With a humongous crash at the edge of the wood near the water, the biggest beast they had ever seen landed, knocking some trees to the ground with one undulation of its gigantic tail. It stood on legs ending in deadly talons. Its scaly wings folded around its body. Its spiked, green head rose up on a long neck. It opened its jaws, letting out a _whoosh_ of orange and blue flames, which licked at the trees, scorching them.

And though they were perfectly still, though they had not made one more peep, the dragon's eyes, horrifyingly huge and cunning, yellow with black slits for pupils, found them.

They ran.

One second they were stock-still, the next they were flying through the trees. Raven couldn't remember the instant in between, the decision to run. He only knew that he had Nora's hand in a death-grip, and he pulled her with him. She stumbled sometimes, but the momentum of their movement and the force of his hand kept her upright.

She was faster, however. On steady, level ground, _she_ was the one pulling _him_ along after her.

Soon they were running uphill, away from the little valley, the wood and the lake. They ran the way they had come. Eventually they lost the cover of the trees, and were racing up a rocky incline. Their momentum slowed significantly, but there was a respite ahead: Raven saw a niche in a rock face, a crack that the two of them just might fit into. It was near the crest of the hill.

He was aware of no sound but that of Nora's labored breaths, his own breathing, and the blood pounding in his ears. He was frighteningly _unaware_ of where the dragon was, whether it had taken to flight, to cut them off, or if it was pursuing some kind of shortcut... For certainly, the valley was the dragon's home. It would know this part of the mountain well.

They had almost reached the hill's crest, the niche in the rock, safety - but then Raven heard Nora's sharp intake of breath, a strangled scream - her hand ripped out of his -

The shadow again passed over his head before he understood what was happening. He kept running mindlessly, uncomprehending, as he watched Nora, clutched in the curled talons of the dragon, sailing away from him as the beast's great wings bore them into the sky. Nora was screaming his name, but there was a roaring in his ears, and he was running, running, running after them, up the hill, to the top...

High in the sky, the thing wheeled, turning around, and then flew north, back toward the valley. Raven tore after them, back down the hill, back into the trees... He was senseless to everything but the thing in the sky, swiftly gaining speed. He ran with every ounce of energy he had, his lungs feeling as if they would explode -

He couldn't lose them -

But they were fast out of sight. Nora's cries quickly faded into nothing.

He ran until he broke through the trees at the edge of the lake, screaming Nora's name fruitlessly into the wind, over and over. He yelled until his voice broke and his throat was raw. He collapsed onto the rocky ground at the water's edge, dry sobs wracking his body. As he let them overtake him, the mist silently rolled back in, obscuring everything.


	17. Interlude: Connections

**16 - INTERLUDE: CONNECTIONS**

Ella was dreaming.

The colors were too bright, and everything seemed to move in slow-motion. The sounds and noises were only echoes reverberating and fading.

It was a sunny wood. A little girl, maybe four or five years old, ran through the trees, bursting into shade, then into sunlight, then into shade. She was laughing, and she turned her head to look behind her. A boy was following, running awkwardly. He didn't seem to know what to do with his arms, and his legs took uneven strides. Despite his ineptitude, he was laughing too, and he called out to the girl, "Nora, wait up!"

The girl only laughed and sped up, her long, dark hair streaming behind her.

So quickly, and only in the way that happens in dreams, the light darkened. The glowing, sunshine-filled woods of not a minute before all at once became dark, looming, even frightening. The girl and the boy kept running.

The dream became hazy, and the edges of the scene went blurry, threatening to disintegrate. Ella tried to hold onto it, but she was waking up. The boy and girl were running straight into danger. Something or someone unseen, ready to pounce. _Wait_, Ella thought, trying to reach them. _Stop, please stop..._

They could not hear her. They weren't laughing anymore, and she couldn't see their faces. A thick mist devoured them, and all that was left was the silence. _No, no, no..._ Ella couldn't let this happen; she had to save them -

"Ella, wake up! Ella!" Someone was shaking her shoulder.

She opened her eyes. Char's worried gaze met her sight. He hovered over her, his expression searching. She blinked for a few moments, clutching at the threads of the dream so they wouldn't slip from her memory.

"Char," she whispered, "she was in my dream."

He shifted, moving closer to her on the small cot, wrapping his arms around her. Faintly, outside the confines of the wagon, the murmur of talk could be heard. The boys were still encircled around the campfire, conversing in low voices. As for Mandy, she had retreated into her small tent hours ago.

"Again?" he asked. He knew who Ella was talking about.

"There was a boy with her this time... They were playing in some kind of forest, but then it got dark, and there was a mist, and then the trees were gone, and they disappeared..."

"What else?" He knew that it calmed her to go over the details with him.

"Oh, Char, she was beautiful..."

"I'll bet she was. She was looking more like you everyday, remember?"

Ella continued as if she hadn't heard him. "Her eyes were so bright, and she had your freckles. The boy was chasing her through the trees - she looked young, maybe five years old. Such a graceful little runner. Light as a deer."

A thoughtful silence followed. Each of them were absorbed in their memories of Nora, their little-girl-lost.

"Do you think -" Ella paused, uncertain. "- Do you think this is all in my head? Is my mind only conjuring up these images because I've thought of her so often?"

Char could remember each time Ella had woken in the night, her dreams full of Nora. After their child's disappearance, it had been almost every night, but that was easily explained. In each and every dream, she was in various forms of grave danger, with Ella always unable to protect her. Both parents felt the weight of that guilt heavily, everyday - the shelter of their arms and their love had not been enough.

In those first dreams, Nora had been as they had last seen her: a toddler. These recent dreams, their beginning being only being a few weeks ago, were different. They had started up again suddenly, with no warning. One night, Ella awoke out of the blue, sitting straight up in bed. She had practically knocked Char off the edge of the mattress in her eagerness to wake him and tell him what she had seen: Nora, a young girl of eleven or twelve, alone in a small cottage, sweeping the floor. The scene had grown dark and forbidding, and an impending danger that Ella could not name seemed to creep in close. It had all faded away into mist. Since then, Ella had dreamed many similar dreams, of Nora at various ages. The endings were always the same.

"I can't really say what your dreams are," he finally replied. "What do you believe?"

She took a deep breath. "I can't quite explain it, but it's almost as if I'm looking through a window. She looks _so_ real to me - I feel it, because if I were simply imagining her, I would make her perfect in every way; but this Nora that I see is _not_ perfect. She's clumsy, like me, and she has your way of setting her mouth when she's angry, and she's so quiet - I can tell that she wants to burst with it, sometimes - and more often than not, she looks like her head is far-away, up in the clouds... Ah, I'm babbling, aren't I?"

"No, Ella. I like to hear you describe her. I wish I could dream of her, too."

"It always turns sour, though. The danger is always there at the end. _What_ can it mean? Do you think she's in peril, wherever she is now?"

"You're not a fairy, witch, or gnome, last I checked. It could be just a dream, encompassing all of your worries and fears." Ella's silence was skeptical. "Then again, I wonder how you can see her so clearly, and in so much detail?"

"I don't know, Char. I don't know." Ella shook her head, sighing. She couldn't explain it right, but this Nora that she saw didn't look like a figment of her thoughts, or an imagined conglomeration of her and Char. She looked like a _person_.

"Maybe it's because... you're connected, the two of you. You have a bond that can't be broken; not by time, not by distance. Remember when Nora would wake in the night, and you would just _know?_ And I always said, don't be silly, go back to sleep... But you would get up anyway to check, and there she would be, wide awake and waiting for you. I remember going after you one night, maybe an hour later, and finding the two of you fast asleep in the rocking chair."

Silence. Char could hear Ella sniffling. He hugged her closer.

Eventually, Ella said, "I can't help thinking about what Mandy explained to me so long ago, as well. About the Eleanor line, the fairy blood, and the magic. We never saw any physical signs..."

"_Physical_ signs," Char whispered, taking up Ella's train of thought. "You think these dreams, your connection - ?"

"I told Mandy about the dreams. She said it was possible. She said magic leaves behind traces of energy. If Nora had the gift, she wouldn't know how to control it without instruction. I'm her mother. I have the fairy blood, too. I'm not magic, but maybe I'm tuned to it. Hers, anyway."

They were each lost in thought for awhile after that, until Ella spoke.

"Thinking about the Nora in my dreams... You know, what's odd is that I'm _glad_ that she isn't perfect. I treasure every second that I can look at her and feel her so close, so real... Her imperfections simply endear her to me even more."

"It _is _easy to idealize her, when I think of her and wonder how she grew up. I agree with you, though; I wouldn't want her to be perfect. Such a thing doesn't exist," Char said.

Ella paused before she spoke again. "Shall we ever meet her? I know that I've never said as much, but I've had my doubts."

"Really? Sometimes I wonder if you _ever_ doubt, and how in the world that happened."

"Of course I doubt. I'm just excellent at hiding it, that's all. Do you?"

"What, doubt? Absolutely. I keep telling myself one thing, though."

"What?" She turned her face toward him.

"That, despite it all, we simply have to keep believing that we _will_ meet again; we _will_ find her. What else can we do? Give up? Hah!"

"Not so easy, for us." Ella smiled in the dark.

"Yes, we're a rather stubborn lot, aren't we? Foolish, some would say..."

"I don't care. I'd rather hope than despair. I defy anyone to question it."

Char's voice was tender. "No one would dare. I don't know if you realize it, but you glow with it, Ella - your hope radiates. You're a beacon for the rest of us, and when our light goes out, you come and rekindle the flame."

"If I'm the beacon, then you're the pillar of strength. I can't take all of the credit, now, can I?"

He laughed, his breath stirring her hair and tickling her neck.

"Or rather," she continued, "the blame. We _are_ on a fool's errand, are we not?"

"Maybe," he said. "But I wouldn't be satisfied with any other course. Would you?"

"... No. I could never leave the slightest possibility to chance. There would always be that little, nagging _what if_. And while we're on the subject of false hopes and idiocy and castles in the air, my dreams mean something deeper - foolishness be damned."

"Foolishness be damned," Char repeated softly.

They talked for awhile longer, but eventually their words trailed into nothing, and Ella and Char drifted once again into sleep.

Ella did not dream of Nora again that night.

* * *

_**Unfortunately, writer's block consumed me when I went to write what happens to N/R after ch. 16. To get me going, I started writing this little snippet. I decided to post it as a chapter - we haven't heard from Ella and Char for awhile, after all. However, it doesn't really further the plot, which is why I'm calling it an interlude.  
_

_(__In regard to Ella's dreams: Even in the book, magic is sort of this mysterious entity. The rules are never really explained, so I have made up most of it for this story. In my version of the world, magic might even have a bit of a mind of its own, especially a magic force existing within a mortal. It's so powerful, I imagine it would work on its own sometimes. Probably rarely, but still. Maybe that's why it reaches Ella in the form of dreams/visions. It's kind of acting on Nora's behalf, very subtly - or maybe the leftover energy from Nora's few displays of power is drawn to Ella and the result is prophetic dreams. Anyway - just a little clarification into my thought process.)_

_As always, thank you to my readers and reviewers!**_


	18. Bittersweet

_**Longest chapter yet!**_

* * *

**18 - BITTERSWEET**

The terrain was barren and cold. Raven passed underneath a seartock tree, pausing briefly to stare up at the leaves overhead. The sun had come out for once, and though it seemed farther away than it should - just a struggling, pale disc in the sky - the light that played over the seartock's foliage was magnificent. It looked exactly like sunlight on water.

Raven's mind could not fully attend to the sight in front of him. He barely lingered for half a second. There was no time to lose.

He had not stopped to rest. He had not eaten. The minute he had picked himself back off the rocky ground at the edge of the lake, scrubbing at his tear-stained face with his hands, he had found Nora's abandoned satchel, adjusted his own pack, and headed out.

He had decided to follow in the dragon's wake. He had seen that it was flying north; that would have to be enough. He reasoned with himself as he hurried along. _If the dragon simply wanted a meal, then he could have done away with both of us right there. No, I don't believe he'll eat her - _Raven shuddered at this thought - _but that doesn't mean he won't harm her. Then again, he was carrying her rather carefully, and in his talons, no less, when he could have simply snatched her up in his jaws..._

Raven thought in circles for awhile, but one thing he could not figure out: what the dragon wanted with Nora.

Still further, he knew he simply _had_ to find her. He didn't care how long it took. He had to have his arms around her once more, and when he did, he would tell her everything. He had been far too stupid for far too long. The reality that Nora could be snatched away from him by something _other_ than another suitor was like a slap in the face. A wake-up call.

He didn't care what might happen anymore. Even if she could never return his feelings, he would make sure that it wouldn't ruin their friendship. He would do anything. _Life is too blastedly short to sit on your thumbs_, he thought grimly. He picked up his speed, gaining good headway as he passed through a fairly level, open space. He thought he could make a considerable distance before dark.

He did not allow himself to think of the possibility that Nora might already be dead. She simply wasn't, and that was the end of it. Unless he saw the proof in front of his own eyes, he wouldn't believe it.

* * *

Raven was right.

When Nora woke, decidedly alive, she was surrounded by blue.

Everything was shadowy, dark, but somehow the sky dimly sparkled at her from all sides. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, groaning softly at the stiffness in her back and legs. Finally, she saw where she was very clearly. She looked around her, bewildered.

Cerulean quartz. It was everywhere.

She was in some kind of cave - that much was certain. She could not see the walls, for they were shrouded in a darkness which stretched far beyond the dim light of a small, crackling fire. The precious stone, semi-transparent but brilliantly blue, like a clear ocean, surrounded her in mounds and stacks. There were blocks of it, rough chunks, and polished stones. She could hardly believe her eyes. This much Cerulean quartz would buy an entire country.

She got to her feet unsteadily, looking around her. The fire provided enough light to see by, but the shadows beyond it were ominous-looking. The collection of quartz (for that's how it looked - like someone had been stock-piling it, probably bringing it to the lonely cavern to hide) was so large that some of the stacks and piles faded into the blackness of the farther corridors of the cave.

Nora also noticed a tiny pinprick of light coming from the far east end. It looked a long way off. As she walked toward it, it grew marginally bigger, and a fresh breath of air seemed to be moving from that direction. She knew, then, that the speck of light was an opening, a doorway to light and air. An exit.

She remembered much: Running with Raven, not knowing how, or if, or where, or _why_ they were being pursued. The horrible moment when she could not feel her hand in his, and the sickening feeling of being yanked from the earth into the air... The dragon so unnervingly silent, she clutched in its horrible gray-brown talons. She remembered screaming senselessly, and eventually, when she could no longer see Raven, she fainted, her mind retreating into an oblivion of darkness.

She did not remember coming here, or getting a good look at the dragon, for that matter. She peered around her, straining to see into the dark, but it was no use. She tilted her head, trying to make out any sounds that would prove that she wasn't alone, but there was only a steady _drip, drip_ of some unknown water source inside the cave, and the far-away, hollow sound of the outside air being blown into the opening.

Nora made up her mind, right then, to walk toward it. She moved forward purposefully toward the blackness beyond the firelight, but before it could engulf her fully, she stopped, thinking. She backtracked, stepping over to the fire, taking a stray branch that was lying nearby and thrusting it into the flames. When she pulled it out, it was all aglow, and she had a kind of torch. It wouldn't burn long, so she would have to hurry. She started to shuffle away from the fireside once again.

She had only taken a few steps when, inexplicably, the dot of light she was following, the evidence of the exit, went out. The sound of rocks crumbling and moving was joined by that familiar _thump_, the one that had jolted the silence of the wood earlier. Nora stopped in her tracks, barely breathing. Something _very_ large was stomping into the cave.

The dragon.

She turned around and ran back to the light, tossing her torch onto the fire. She skidded back to the spot where she had awoken, laying herself down and closing her eyes. She could hardly do it, she was so frightened, but there was nothing else she _could_ do. The stomping racket got louder and louder, then stopped.

"No need to pretend to sleep. I can smell your fear. I know you're awake."

The voice was deep and slightly raspy, but it also had a sinuous, mesmerizing quality, like the hissing of a snake. The sound of it made Nora's very bones shudder. She had to take a few slow breaths before she had the courage to sit up and face her captor.

It was... well, _big_, but it did not seem as huge as it had appeared in the forest - maybe because those great, scaly wings were folded up.. In the light of the fire, the eyes glowed yellow with an orange tint. The rest of it was partially obscured by flickering shadows. The dragon looked at her in a rather calculating way, she thought.

"I also know that you were trying to escape. I would not try again, if I were you."

"I wasn't -" she began to lie, but the beast cut her off.

"Do not lie to me. If it's one thing I detest, it's liars." The voice was still smooth and even, but the eyes narrowed at her, and a warning note was underneath. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm starving."

Nora's heart kicked up its pace, but the dragon did not move. Instead, it bent its head down, ripping and tearing at something with its jaws.

In her fear, she had not noticed the smell. It flooded her nostrils, and she was forced to immediately breathe through her mouth so she wouldn't vomit. There was no mistaking it: fresh blood.

The dragon was eating its kill with zeal, and Nora could feel the bile rising in her throat. She turned away, moving with strained hesitance as far from the dragon as possible while still staying in the circle of light from the fire. She sat down, drawing up her knees. She tried to hold her breath, a few tears slipping down her cheeks. Would she be next? Was the beast saving her as a special treat?

The irony of the conversation she had had with Phillip about dragons not two weeks prior hit her over the head. She felt wretchedly foolish and naive.

The sounds of eating eventually stopped.

"Why do you weep, little human?"

Nora wiped at her eyes. She had not realized that she was still crying. Tremulously, she answered, "Because I know what you're going to do with me."

"How could you possibly know that? Can you see the future, like the gnomes?"

"No, but I'm not stupid, either."

The dragon chortled, and Nora whipped around in surprise, staring at it. Its laughter sounded like coughing, and every time it let out a breath, its nostrils flared with light: the fire within. Quite suddenly, it turned around, facing the passage with the exit, rather agile for something so large, and blew out a rush of hot, scorching flame. Even from her spot, Nora felt the heat of it. She cringed, putting her hands over her face.

"Sorry about that. It builds up if I don't use it for awhile."

Nora looked up. The dragon was facing her again, the eyes still glowing, but with a kind of amusement, or so it seemed.

"Anyway, little human, I'm not going to kill you, if that is what worries you. I wouldn't bother to build a cozy fire for an intended meal."

Confused and angry, she could not help but reply, "Then what on earth have you brought me here for? Why did you capture me, and take me away from my - my friend?"

"Oh, there is a reason. Without it, you would have been dead by now, without a doubt. It isn't up to me, though. I have been paid what I require, and I always keep to my end of bargains. Now, I've got a little bit of this meat left over - only mountain goat, but it's better than nothing. I can roast it up for you; I'm sure you're hungry by now. How would you like it? Medium-rare? Blackened? I prefer mine bloody, but tastes do differ."

Nora tried to return to the former subject, but after that, the dragon insisted on feeding her, refusing to respond to any other topic. She could get no more answers out of the strange, ferocious, yet oddly civil creature, and though he had told her that he wasn't going to eat her, a feeling of unease only deepened in the pit of her stomach.

* * *

The ascent was just beginning.

Raven's ears popped for what seemed like the millionth time. The air pressure kept changing as he got higher.

There had been evidence of the dragon to lead him on. Scorched grass and trees marked where the dragon's flame had touched. Fallen trees marked his careless landings.

Night was enveloping the landscape, and soon, he had to admit to himself, he would be forced to stop. He knew this, yet he kept walking. The clear skies held, and when night finally descended, stars punctuated the sky. He could barely see his hand in front of his face, let alone his feet on the path.

That was why, when he saw the faint glow of a light at a distance, Raven could hardly believe his eyes. The mountain was inhabitant-less, and since the gnomes, there had been no other travelers. Cautiously, he decided to continue a little farther to investigate the source.

He managed to get quite a bit closer before the light extinguished. It had glowed rather soft and white, a strange illumination that didn't look like a lantern or a campfire, and its fading was gentle and slow, decreasing into black by millimeters.

He stood still, wondering whether to go forward. He thought that he really should stop for the night to rest up for the next day's probable hard journey. Should he waste precious hours of sleep for the sake of sheer curiosity?

As if in answer to his queries, the light reignited, glowing into life.

Raven couldn't sleep until he knew what it was. What if it was a specter, or a will-o'-the-wisp? He had to find out.

He walked more slowly, following the white light. It was brightest at its center. He had no idea what it could be.

He was no more than fifty or so paces from reaching it when it once again faded. This time, however, something rustled in the dark after the light was gone. Raven stopped, drawing in his breath.

"Hello? Who's there?" he called, reaching for his bow and arrow.

Another rustling noise met his ears. He thought he heard a female voice, softly cursing. All at once, a lantern flared up in the exact spot where the white light had been.

A woman stood there, holding up her light in his direction. "Hello?" she said.

Raven could not speak at first. He was profoundly confused. This woman's lantern looked nothing like the light he had followed. What was she doing out here in the wilderness of the most barren mountain in the Ceruleans, and alone? Not to mention, she was ridiculously beautiful. It was a rather generic beauty - large blue eyes, small nose, pouty lips, fair blonde hair - but still arresting, nonetheless.

"Hello," he said again, approaching her with caution. "Are you lost?"

She laughed, and it was like bells ringing. "I could ask you the same question."

He was taken aback by that. Not knowing what to say in reply, he reverted to common courtesy. "Can I be of some assistance?" he offered.

"Oh no," she said. "I've found what I was looking for."

He had no idea what she was talking about. There was nothing but the blackness of the night surrounding them. She held up her lantern, letting the light bathe his face. She studied him for a minute. In turn, he could see her face more clearly. At second glance, maybe she was not so beautiful after all. There was something wrong about her features... something off. He couldn't put his finger on it.

"I know whom you seek." she said, finally.

Now he was utterly bewildered, if he hadn't already been so before. "Who are you?" he blurted.

"I am called Cassandra. This mountain that you have been wandering all over is my home."

_Cassandra_.

She continued, "The dragon took your friend. I know where he's keeping her."

"How did you - ?"

"I am a fairy. Nothing is beyond me. Furthermore, I keep watch over this land. I saw you and your young lady when you first set foot on the mountain."

He probably should have said something, but all he could do was gape at her. This woman was Cassandra, of whom Gladys had been so afraid... Raven had imagined a witch-like woman, stooped and evil-looking. The tall, fair person in front of him was just the opposite.

"Let's get to the point, shall we? I can help you save your friend." Her golden voice held the tiniest note of impatience. Raven was still too awestruck to notice.

"You know where the dragon resides?"

"Yes."

"You will assist me in my pursuit?"

"Of course." She paused. "For a price."

He looked at her warily. There it was again, that odd look about her. Was it behind her eyes? Their gaze was rather icy and cold, now that he could see them clearly. Involuntarily, he shuddered. He realized he had no idea if he could trust this person, this fairy. Why had she appeared out of nowhere? What was she _doing_ on this part of the mountain?

He had never met a stereotypical fairy; the ones he had encountered, so far, did not meet any of the normal requirements. Weren't they supposed to be good creatures, generally? Past experience did not help him decide. _Well, it won't hurt to find out what she wants_, he decided.

At length, he finally said, "What price?"

She raised her lantern higher and leaned slightly forward, peering at him. "Do you have anything of value?"

"N-"

He had been about to say no, and it would have been true... but for the pendant of Cerulean quartz hanging around his neck. Barton had said it was worth more than he could earn in twenty years.

It didn't matter. If Raven had to use it to bargain for Nora's safe return, so be it.

"This," he said, pulling out the pendant. The blue stone shone faintly in the dim light.

"Hmmmm..." she said, her eyes narrowing. "Interesting." Her tone was casual, but the ice in her eyes seemed to burn for a second.

Cassandra considered for a moment, then shifted. "Right then. I will take you to the beast's lair and assist you in the rescue of your friend. Afterward, you will give me that necklace. Do we have a deal?"

Raven hesitated. "First..."

She raised her eyebrows.

He had to gather his courage to continue. "First, how do I know that you really are a fairy?"

She rolled her eyes. Setting the lantern on the ground, she raised one hand. He waited, rather breathlessly. She flicked her index finger. At first, nothing happened.

A second later, the shadows were moving and morphing in the pool of lantern light. Raven gasped. The night darkness was gathering itself and forming into shapes. A silhouette of a dragon reared its head. It was flying, its wings flapping. Another shadow figure materialized: a girl. The dragon chased the girl, opening and closing its jaws. Another form leaped between them: a shadow boy. He held a sword, waving it high.

The next second, the shadows leaped back into the dark. Cassandra leaned down, retrieving her lantern. She looked at Raven expectantly.

"W - Wow... uh, okay. I believe you. But - but how am I supposed to know that you'll keep your word?" He felt like he was walking on thin ice with this question, but he had to quell a bad feeling that tugged at him, annoying and insistent.

"That should be obvious. I have promised not to collect my payment until _after_ I have helped you. On top of that, I give you my word as a fairy. I solemnly swear to abide to the terms I have laid out. Are you quite satisfied now, young man?"

He really had no other choice. He had determined to search for Nora and save her, but for all he knew, he could have searched until the end of time and never found her. He might have died on this barren mountain, never to be seen again, and Nora lost forever... He didn't really trust the looks of this fairy, but he felt her words were true, and his urge to rush to Nora's rescue overrode everything else.

"Yes. I accept your terms," he said.

Cassandra smiled humorlessly. In that expression, much was revealed that Raven hadn't been able to see at first. It was pure ice.

Immediately he regretted his agreement, but it was too late; she was already swiftly moving forward, taking his hand.

She laughed once before the scene in front of them starting dissolving. The trees, the darkness, the mountainside were disappearing -

"Now it begins," she said.

Before Raven could fully panic, everything went white.

* * *

The fire was going out.

As Nora stared into the dying embers, all of her concentration was on one thing.

She looked up, across the cave and toward the passage leading out. Lying directly in front of it, its mammoth bulk heaving with loud snores, was the dragon. She narrowed her eyes at him, holding her breath. She leaned forward from where she sat, both hands on both knees.

She was trying _so_ hard, but nothing was happening.

Her gift was failing her.

Granted, this was the first time she was trying to summon a very specific thing. The idea had come to her as she remembered how she had gotten Gladys to inadvertently call Lucinda. That had been purely an accident, but Nora thought, if she just tried, maybe she could replicate it with the dragon, just more specifically. She willed him to get up, move over a few feet, and then go back to sleep. If it worked, she could slip by him and make a quick escape. She thought she could hide somewhere on the mountainside if he made chase. She knew better than to run.

As hard as Nora concentrated, as much as she summoned the power, it did not come to her.

She gave up, slumping back into a more relaxed pose with a disgruntled sigh. _What am I doing wrong?_ she thought. She tried to remember the more complicated displays of her gift, what she had been doing, thinking, feeling...

Slowly, she realized that she hadn't really _done_ anything. The magic had simply come out of some secret store that she held inside of her. It had more to do with her reflexes and gut reaction than any deep deliberation or skill. She remembered halting the falling tree - how natural the magic felt, flowing out of her to stop it, like she was using an invisible appendage - it had been as simple as skipping stones, or running. Skills she had, but didn't always use; things that came to her naturally, easily.

Why wasn't it easy now? Why did nothing happen, though she tried her hardest?

_That was it_.

Understanding came like a slap in the face: s_he was trying too hard._ The reason the magic always _felt_ natural was because it _was _ natural. If she forced it, it wouldn't work. She had to simply let it come, let it do her bidding. She had to let it flow through her like it was supposed to.

She took a few deep breaths, calming her excited heart. She closed her eyes, pushing her hair out of her face. She wished she hadn't lost the small piece of string she used to tie off her braid - it was so much easier to think without hair getting in the way - but she couldn't fret over that now. She shook the long locks back over her shoulders, just breathing, calming down.

She relaxed. The fire was almost completely gone. All that was left of it were glowing embers. She looked up at the dragon through the gloom.

She breathed. Her chest tingled. She blinked.

The dragon woke up, getting to its feet. Nora was not startled.

The dragon shifted around, rather groggily, and then slumped back to the cavern floor. In seconds it was snoring again.

Nora got to her feet and lifted her skirt, walking lightly. She did not need a torch. The dark didn't bother her, all of sudden, and her eyes were quite adjusted. She walked around the dragon and entered the passage.

The air was fresher here. She breathed in deep, walking steadily onward. She did not look back. She felt no fear.

She walked for a long time, but the light kept changing, turning more blue, the darkness less dense; the air kept getting fresher. A soft wind ruffled her loose hair, blowing some strands across her face. It was like a gentle caress.

Sooner than expected, she was walking out of the cave and into a clear, twinkling night. The moon was out, softly washing the landscape with a subtle, silver glow.

Compelling a dragon was no mean feat, however... there would be a price. High above the cave entrance, a pile of rocks trembled, sliding toward the edge of a sheer drop. Far below, naive Nora was oblivious.

* * *

The whiteness faded from around Raven, and a new scene emerged in front of his eyes.

He was standing high on a cliff edge, the mountain steep and treacherous and winding down below him. The moon was brighter here, and he could see the person next to him clearly. With a start, he noticed for the first time that she was at least four inches taller than his own above-average height. She loomed down at him, her eyes reflecting the moon's glow.

He yanked his arm out of her grasp, backing away from her. She narrowed her eyes at him, but then they darted quite suddenly to gaze at a spot some distance away, somewhere behind him. "Ah," she murmured.

He turned to look, and it only took him a second to see what she saw: a figure moving slowly down the mountain, away from what looked like the entrance to a cave of some sort. She (Raven knew it was a she, for he could see a fall of long, dark hair and a dark blue dress) was across a chasm from the cliff where they stood. The mountain rose up less steeply on that side, and she was picking her way down carefully.

His heart leaped. "Nor-!" he began to call her name, but Cassandra clapped a hand over his mouth. Her skin was clammy, and he had to squash the urge to bite her hand - anything to get her _away_ from him.

"Shhhh!" she whispered forcefully. "Look!" She dropped her hand from his face, pointing higher up, a long way above the cave entrance. Small rocks were beginning to crumble down, and a low rumbling noise warned of what was coming. Raven saw the large boulders shiver, and he felt the bottom drop out of his stomach.

They were going to fall. There was no time to think the word "avalanche." It was already happening. Nora was directly in harm's way.

"NO!" he shouted. The rocks were cascading down the mountain, gaining force and speed as they fell, and Raven saw Nora's head snap up in horror - she would only have seconds to realize what was happening before she was dead - but Cassandra was faster. She moved forward an inch, her eyes on the falling rocks.

What happened next was instantaneous. One minute the rocks were going to crush Nora, the next, they were disintegrating into a fine powder. It fell softly all around Nora, drifting down lazily. It looked like it was snowing. Nora's upturned face was unbelieving. Raven saw her hold out her hands to catch a few flakes. He could have watched her forever; the sight of her was something he never wanted to lose again. Real, beautiful, _alive_ -

"I have to get to her," he said dizzily. He felt like he might throw up. "I have to get to her..."

"An avalanche wasn't part of the plan, but all the better," Cassandra muttered. Raven wasn't paying attention. "Your wish, my command, noble sir," she said sarcastically.

He was still dazed as she reached out and grabbed his hand, and as the whiteness consumed his sight, he felt like he might have dreamed all of it.

* * *

It was snowing. She had been about to die, but now it was snowing. It was the most wonderful sight in the world. Her upturned palms caught the icy flakes, and she stuck out her tongue to taste the moment. The melting coldness on her taste buds woke her up.

Nora squinted through the white storm. It was tapering off, but in one spot it seemed to be getting thicker. She frowned. _Wait a minute_, she thought. _That isn't snow..._

The last few snowflakes trickled down through the still air of the night. The whiteness that she had mistaken for a flurry was now easily distinguishable as a sort of light. It faded, and two figures appeared at its center. One was tall, slender, willowy; the other was lean, with broader shoulders and a mop of black hair. He pushed it out of his eyes with one hand. It was such a familiar gesture, one Nora had seen millions of times.

The light wasn't completely gone, but Nora was already running toward it. More accurately, toward _him_. The other person accompanying him completely left Nora's mind as she dashed madly to close the space between her and Raven.

Obviously they were of two minds, because he rushed at her with just as much eagerness. When they met halfway, he scooped her up in his arms and ran around with her in circles, laughing deliriously. Her arms clamped around his neck (heaven forbid anyone pry her off him), and she pressed her face into the warmth of his shirt. Tears leaked from her eyes, but they were happy ones, and she laughed with him.

They both calmed somewhat, and Raven gently set Nora down. He did not let go of her, though, and she did not release her grip on him. Before there could be any questions or words or doubts to get in the way, without hesitation Raven leaned down, kissing her hard and full on the lips.

There was no room for other thoughts. The Firelight festival, Phillip, Greta, ruining their friendship - all was forgotten, reduced to fleeting memories.

Nora kissed him back with as much feeling as she had ever felt. Raven wrapped his arms around her far more firmly, and not even another avalanche could have ripped them apart. Their lips met again and again, and their breathing grew ragged as they finally indulged in their need for one another. The moment was too sweet.

A voice was speaking to them, but it was far off, inconsequential. They stayed glued together.

Cassandra, the source of the voice, had had quite enough. She marched up to the couple and grabbed Raven's shoulder. A shock seemed to go through his body, and the two young people drew apart, wide-eyed and dazed. They both stared at Cassandra with expressions that seemed to say, _What could be more important than this_?

It was beginning to snow again, but this time it was real. The wind blew suddenly from the west, cold and damp. The stars had disappeared, but the moon managed to keep shining through the clouds. _Consequences,_ Cassandra thought disgustedly.

"Are you forgetting our deal? You owe me that pendant," she snapped at Raven. Nora looked up at him with questions in her eyes, but he shook his head slightly. He released her, holding her hand instead. He shifted his feet so he was standing slightly in front of her.

"No, of course I haven't forgotten. Nora seems to have saved herself from the dragon, but you saved her from the avalanche." With his free hand he removed the stone from around his neck. He held it out to Cassandra wordlessly.

She snatched it from him and held it up to the dimming moonlight. She smiled to herself as she pocketed it. "Now our deal is settled... but I'm afraid that isn't the end of it. You two _have_ been looking for me all along, haven't you?"

Nora stared at the strange woman, then glanced up at Raven. He turned his head slightly, nodding minutely. Nora squeezed his hand. This was Cassandra.

Nora spoke for the first time. "We _have_ been searching for you. May I ask how you knew?" Her tone revealed nothing but polite curiosity, but Raven could feel her pulse racing through the grip he had on her fingers.

"As I told _him_, I am a fairy. Nothing is beyond me." Cassandra looked down at them both with an imperious air. Her right hand was twitching.

Nora simply nodded.

"Now," Cassandra continued, "I believe there was something specific you wanted to know. And yes, I do have _all_ of the answers." Unexpectedly, her gaze became more intense as she surveyed Raven and Nora.

The next second, neither of them could move an inch. They were frozen in place. Cassandra smiled widely.

The wind picked up, blowing stinging, cold snow in their faces. In their minds, both of them were panicking.

Cassandra walked forward smoothly, the wind whipping her sky-blue gown around her. She stopped when she was standing directly in front of them. She spoke clearly, enunciating every word so they wouldn't miss anything.

"Yes, Nora and Noland, my little lost royals, what a great _trouble_ you have been to me. Not entirely your fault, though, I know that now. Good help is so _terribly_ hard to find these days; I should have known that Gladys would turn out to be an incorrigible softy.

But lo, imagine my surprise when I saw you on my mountain - together, alive and well! And all this time, I thought you two were out of the picture. Hah! I'm afraid, however, that the fun is at an end. Neither of you will be plaguing me any longer. And, now that I have _this,_" - she raised the Cerulean quartz pendant, letting it dangle in front of their eyes - "Noland is no longer protected. Before, I could only use my magic on him with his _permission_; now I can do whatever I please!"

Raven could not move any part of his body, except for his eyes. He strained them until he was looking as far to the right as he could. He wanted to see Nora's face, to make sure she was all right, but he could only see the edge of her ragged blue dress blowing in the snow and wind.

"Ah, I see a little glimmer in your eyes, Noland; you are shocked, yes? Don't feel too badly, though, my dear boy. The wool was over your eyes for much longer than you think. _I_ sent the dragon. I paid our fiery friend a king's ransom, and he held up his end, more or less. I was supposed to gain your trust by saving Nora from _him_, not a natural disaster, but, as Nora is rather more intelligent than I thought... How _did_ you escape, anyway?"

Of course, Nora could not answer, and Cassandra laughed right in their faces. "Ah, I see the cat has got your tongue!" She laughed again, louder. It was no longer the bell-like tones that Raven remembered; now it seemed more real, more sinister. Some of the smoke-and-mirrors were gone.

"Anyway, a rather drawn-out plan, but I needed some kind of bargaining chip to get this jewel away from you, Noland, and simultaneously to get you both right where I wanted. Nora's life seemed as good a playing card as any, though she was never going to be killed. I don't particularly like to have a direct hand in _that_ kind of dirty work; not my style at all.

No, foolish children, death is not what I have in mind for you - not anymore. The conclusion I want is right in front of me, now that I have both of you under my power. _This_, then, is how it shall end."

With a swift movement, she grabbed Raven's arm, the one with the hand that held Nora's. She pried their fingers apart and dragged him a few feet away by one arm.

He found he could move again, though he could not escape her iron grasp. He struggled fruitlessly, reaching for Nora, still frozen in place.

"Say goodbye to Nora, Noland," Cassandra said, summoning the light.

"N- Nora! NORA!"

The white light grew around them. There was no time. Nora, still frozen, could only watch.

"Nora, I love you! I love yo-"

Raven was completely obscured by the white light, and his words were cut off. They went straight to Nora's heart, and if she could have, she would have screamed them back at him, the last words she might ever be able to say to him - _I love you, I love you, I love you..._

The light faded, and Cassandra and Raven were gone.

Nora gasped as the spell lifted. She was unfrozen, and her movements were her own again. Meanwhile, the snow came down harder. She could not see the mountainside.

Cold tears ran silently down her cheeks as the blizzard hit.

* * *

_**I've been waiting to write that kiss. I hope it didn't disappoint._

_I just want to say thanks again to my reviewers, and everybody who sticks around to read the next plot twist in this rather long saga of mine. :) I started writing this for my own amusement and enjoyment, but it is so nice to know that other people enjoy it, too.**_


	19. Moments in Time

**19 - MOMENTS IN TIME**

On the side of a mountain, lost in a haze of blinding white snow, a girl cried uncontrollable tears.

In a damp, dark dungeon, a boy was dreaming.

In the shadow and shelter of a forest of tall oak trees, a haggard group of travelers waited.

Lounging on a wooden throne padded with plump cushions, a false-king stuffed his face with pies and pastries.

In a lonely chamber in that same king's castle, a fairy gazed at herself in a long mirror, brushing her hair over and over. Every now and then she laughed to herself softly.


	20. The Past Unveiled

**20 - THE PAST UNVEILED**

Something cold and hard was pressed against Raven's cheek. The air felt damp and smelled musty. He wrinkled his nose. Why wasn't he waking up? This was the most horrible nightmare he had ever had...

He opened his eyes. It wasn't a nightmare. None of it had been.

He and Cassandra had materialized in a small room. He remembered candles flickering, the light playing over various tapestries which hung from the wall. He had noticed, vaguely, that one of them had a coat of arms on it. It was colored red, like blood.

Cassandra had spoken sharply, but Raven couldn't recall her words. It had been like he was underwater; mouths moved, words came out, but they made no sense to him.

Guards had appeared out of nowhere and apprehended him, but when he struggled, one of them hit him over the head. It knocked him out, but it had almost been a relief. The swift darkness of unconsciousness was welcome to him.

Now he was lying on the ground, sprawled on a floor made of stone. It was dark, but a square of light from a tiny, barred window illuminated a spot on the floor. He tilted his head slightly, letting his eyes rove. The walls, the ceiling, the hard bench in the corner: all stone. He sat up, and the final thing in the room let him know exactly where he was.

Instead of a doorway, iron bars crossed over each other in a narrow opening. A large keyhole in a square plate was attached on the right side: the door, but also the barrier that held him here, inside this dungeon. It could have been in the same building that held the small room with the tapestries, or one twenty leagues away; there was no way he could tell.

His head hurt dreadfully. He closed his eyes, and vivid images played themselves out in his mind. They were sharp, so real, and they hurt to recall.

Nora standing helpless in the middle of a snowstorm. He had left her there; not by choice, but he could have tried harder to stop it.

And now he was... Here, wherever that was, locked up in a damp, cold, smelly cell. He stood up, walked to the bars of his prison and strained to see out. This room faced a stone wall. What looked like a long hallway stretched in either direction. There were no other windows. A short distance down the echoing corridor, a single torch blazed. The ends of the passages got lost in shadow.

He could hear no noises, no sounds. He turned around, pacing back to slump against the wall with the tiny window. He slid to the ground, burying his face in his hands. He had nothing. They had taken his bow and arrow, his pack, all of his belongings. _She_ had his pendant, too, but she had not taken it by force. He had been tricked into giving it to her.

He wanted to punch something. How could he have been so stupid? The gnomes _tried_ to tell him what was coming, that what he carried around his neck was so much more than valuable - why didn't he listen? It had been protecting him. With it, she hadn't been able to _touch_ him without his permission. With it, he and Nora might be -

He couldn't go further with that thought. Despair threatened to swallow him whole. He couldn't dwell on what he could have done differently. It would get him nowhere.

He was _here_. He would focus on that. For now, he would put all of his energy into escaping.

* * *

Raven must have fallen asleep again, because when he opened his eyes, his cheek was once again pressed against the cold stone floor. Something was different, though. In his direct line of sight, beyond the bars of his cell, was a pair of ridiculous-looking shoes.

He lifted his head slightly, the skin of his face sticking to the stone for a second before it lost contact. The shoes, looking more fit for a court jester than a visitor to a dungeon, were connected to a pair of spindly legs, which were clad with green stockings. As Raven's eyes moved further up, he could see a deep, raspberry-colored doublet trimmed with gold and fur. The buttons were straining to remain closed, as the spindly legs seemingly attached to a rather portly mid-section.

He stopped at the face, which was sneering down at him with an oily expression. The dark beard and mustache were impeccably trimmed, the beard ending in a curly point. The features were sharp, and if the rest of the body were obscured, Raven would have thought him to be reed-thin. It seemed that all of this man's extra weight went straight to his stomach.

More unsettling than any of this, however, was the gleaming crown set upon the dark, slick hair.

The situation could not have been any more unnerving. Raven was sprawled on the floor of a prison cell, staring up at a king who looked as if he wanted to roast Raven alive and eat him for dinner.

"Noland, I believe, is it?" The king's voice matched his features, the words clipped and succinct.

Raven frowned. "It's Raven," he said. He had had plenty of time to wonder about the fact that he was, in Cassandra's words, _royal_, but the honest truth was that it hadn't even crossed his mind - not about what it meant, not about who his parents must have been, not even how it fit in with the other clues that he had been given.

Whether or not _Noland_ was his real name, he felt no connection to it. To Barton, who was his family, he was Raven. To Nora, who was his love, he was Raven. He felt no need to take up the new, unfamiliar moniker. It was a noble name, shining with its implied status, but right now it didn't really belong to him.

Raven scrambled to his feet, but did not move any closer to the iron bars of his prison. His hand moved to grasp a weapon that wasn't there. He realized this a little late, his hand lingering in mid-air. He dropped it, letting both of his arms hang limply at his sides.

The eyes that watched him from the other side of the bars were dark, glittering with some kind of mixture of amusement and hatred, but they were also flat, blank, and rather dull. If there was any wisdom or shrewdness there, it was not in good quantity.

"Names aren't really important. The main point is, you're _you, _and you're _here_." The strange man paused, slowly stepping forward to stand directly in front of the prison door. "Do you know who I am?"

Raven's eyes darted to the man's crown. He shrugged noncommittally.

The man straightened his shoulders. "I am the king; King Algernon. _I_ make the rules. Cassandra is _my_ servant." His eyes flicked around nervously as he made this bold statement, as if he was searching for whoever would dare to negate it, and his tone was that of a spoiled child.

He was obviously lying, and doing a very bad job at that, but Raven didn't say anything. Something clicked in his brain, though, the pieces fitting together: _King Algernon - ruler of Kyrria_.

His silence seemed to encourage the king. "It was all my idea. King Charmont wasn't fit to rule. I knew I would be better, far more... _up_ _to the task_, if you will. Once the girl was out of the way - and as long as she _stays_ out of the way - according to the prophecy, I could rule until the day I die." He laughed darkly.

"Done and _done_. We cannot forget about you, though. You were alluded to in the prophecy, as well. It wasn't at all specific, but you fit what little there was to go on, especially since you and the girl became a little duo. You're probably wondering why you were brought here, am I right? Well, there you have it. You and the girl must be separated, if I am to maintain my, er, _current position_. What did the prophecy say about that? I'm afraid my memory is poor, just give me a second. . ." He mumbled under his breath, reciting something to himself.

"Ah! Now I remember! '_Both born of noble lines / both will lose everything / which together, they may regain.'_ Prophecies are tricky things, you know. Every word is important. You've got to pay attention if you want to riddle them out. '_Together_,' it says. Therefore, to keep things nice and tidy for myself, you must be kept apart."

Raven had never heard of a prophecy in his entire life, let alone one concerning him _and_ Nora - that is, if what Algernon was saying was correct. The enormity of it all was too much for his mind to handle. He could barely get a grip on the stark facts of the matter.

Despite his awestruck feelings, all of a sudden, his earliest remembrances, or lack thereof, became less muddled in his mind. He could begin to work out what had happened to him when he was young without any other clues. He had been found wandering alone in the forest, unable to remember his own name. Had someone done that to him because of this prophecy? Had he been put neatly out of the way? Gladys had said something about a job she was supposed to do, but never could bring herself to finish... Her fear of Cassandra had been so obvious, even then...

Algernon was still talking, but Raven wasn't listening. He staggered backward slightly as the force of the realization hit him. Of course, he couldn't have been completely sure that what he was imagining was entirely true, but he knew his summations were probably close enough.

He was almost one-hundred percent sure that he was supposed to have been killed, and that Cassandra was behind everything.

Killed because of his role in the prophecy? _Yes and no_, he thought. After all, he had not known Nora until _after_ he had been found in the woods. They had not been linked until _after _that event had taken place. Without it, they never would have even met... Without it, he never would have been involved in anything that came after. Gladys, the journey to Mount Spindle, meeting Cassandra. But that still didn't explain why he had ended up in the woods in the first place.

The woods. Raven had suffered some sort of trauma there, though he could not remember what or why. Barton had found him, saved him, adopted him, but what they never spoke of was the fear that had lingered in Raven for months afterward. The night terrors, the way he had followed Barton everywhere like a second shadow, afraid to even lose sight of his adopted father for a second. Eventually the fear had faded, but it had been hard to deal with without understanding the cause.

The woods. Were they the scene of the first attempt on his life? That first try had obviously failed, however. Raven might have escaped all notice and gone on to live a quiet life as a blacksmith, except that he and Nora had become friends. That had drawn the attention back to him again, and had only given the plotter another, even better reason to do away with him. Gladys, already possibly tasked with taking Nora's life, was told to get rid of him, as well. It was an assumption, but Raven was sure he was right.

It had never happened, though. There hadn't been so much as one measly attempt, besides Gladys's one last desperate spell, and Cassandra hadn't bothered to check for a long, long time. Rather careless, Raven thought. But then again, Cassandra seemed to have a one-track mind. She wouldn't have been able to focus on too many aspects of her plan at once. She would have taken some things for granted, and put all of her energy into other pursuits, other facets of her scheming...

What facets, though? Something to do with Nora? There was some part of this entire scenario that Raven was missing. He needed the blanks filled in.

One thing was rather clear, though.

In part, Cassandra's actions were what helped make the prophecy come true. He never would have been put into Nora's path, otherwise. He would have gone on living whatever life he had lived before. Was he the son of some important noble - a duke, maybe, or an earl? Whatever his rank, Cassandra had sought to achieve some end by removing him from his biological family.

But then he had survived, met Nora, and become a different thing entirely: A bigger piece of the puzzle than Cassandra had probably ever anticipated.

He shuddered to wonder at how she had left the remainder of his real family. What had happened to them after his disappearance? Raven didn't know, but there was someone standing directly in front of him who might, talking away as if he had a rapt audience. Someone who seemed very keen on unloading all kinds of information upon willing ears.

". . . ogres were easy to bargain with, once I promised them fresh meals by the dozen. Genius! An excellent way to deal with criminals, and no mess leftover, literally! It _is_ quite tricky to communicate with them though - their persuasion trickles into almost all of their conversation, and with the beeswax, one can hardly _hear_ them, so I had to hire some translators who were rather throw-away -"

Raven interrupted carelessly. "Did you know my father?"

Algernon snorted, barely noticing how off-topic the question was. "Your _father_? M'boy, your _father_ was the most smug, arrogant person I have ever had the displeasure to meet. He absolutely _refused_ to converse with me. When he would visit the Kyrrian court, I would approach him with some ideas I had about international trade, but he would wave me off like I wasn't worth his time! I was a duke, mind you, _almost_ as high as a king, and probably worth fifty of his kind. Pooh! Your _father_ is the last person I want to discuss, at present," he sniffed.

_Almost_ as high as a king? Did that mean that Algernon was trying to speak with a superior? Was Raven's father his superior? _Was Raven's father a king?_

That would help explain why Raven had been taken from his home in the first place. If Cassandra had set her sights on his father's kingdom, then she would have needed to get rid of his heirs. Maybe she had meant for that to happen in the woods.

It was too late to ask more questions to find out, because Algernon was already talking about his ideas concerning international trade, which had been so 'unfairly' rejected.

Raven felt the need to interrupt again. "You were a duke once?"

He knew that Algernon had inherited his throne by less-than-savory means. International politics were often gossiped about in Barton's shop, and that included Kyrrian affairs. Raven knew that King Charmont had reined before Algernon, and had disappeared mysteriously along with his sons and his wife, which was a coincidence that was too large to overlook. The only thing Raven didn't know was the whole story.

"I was King Charmont's cousin, but _he_ is someone I rather like talking about even less than your _father_."

"How did Nora come into the picture?" Raven didn't care how artless he was being. It was clear that Algernon hadn't come to see him for any meaningful purpose. He was not accompanied by guards, and he was talking quite freely. He had condescended to come down to the dungeon merely to gloat.

He was kind of an idiot, actually. _He isn't using Cassandra,_ Raven thought. _Cassandra is using _him_._

In fact, Algernon seemed so convinced that he was the brains of the outfit, that it made Raven all the more positive that Cassandra had completely duped him. The more Algernon talked, the more of an unwitting pawn he seemed.

"You mean the girl, the young Eleanor? Really, Noland, you look smarter than that. Keep up, boy! I'm _related_ to her. The little brat is - or was - my second cousin."

_Second cousin?_ Cousin to the king, second cousin to the king's offspring - oh, he had really underestimated the _entire_ situation - that meant that Nora was -

"Wait, she's _King Charmont's daughter_?"

"Haven't you been following along, boy? _Yes,_ for Pete's sake! His _only_ daughter. Eleanor Rosalyn, the former princess of Kyrria!"

* * *

Cassandra knew that Algernon was talking to Raven. Her long mirror was useful for looking into places where she was not present. She was watching their conversation now in its silvery depths.

It made no difference to her that Algernon was spilling secrets; Raven would never see the light of day again, anyway. It did not matter what he knew.

He would be kept in his cell, alone and far away from the girl. There would be no chances for him. He would never return to reclaim his kingdom. The two of them, the boy and the girl, would never unite to destroy her. Everything was in hand. The prophecy would never come to fruition.

As she watched the boy, Noland, listening to Algernon's careless babbling, she could see that the gears were turning in his head. He was working out the story, his own story.

Unexpectedly, a little swell of jealously clutched at Cassandra's heart. Algernon should not have the pleasure of revealing such things to him - she, the puppeteer pulling _all_ of the strings, should be reveling in the glory of the conquered prince's despair. It was only right.

Besides, Algernon was starting to over-step his bounds - _again_. She would rein him in. Cassandra stood up abruptly, whisking the velvet cloth back over her mirror with a flourish of her wrist. She closed her eyes, and light brightened her chamber for an instant. When it was gone, so was she.

* * *

Raven shielded his face. A light, blindingly bright white, filled the small, dim cell. He was not surprised. He knew Cassandra's trademark entrance too well.

Algernon, who had been speaking for what felt like hours, seemingly without a need to draw breath, was now notoriously silent. When Raven could see again, he noticed that the king had retreated from his spot in front of the prison door. Now he was pressed against the stone wall adjacent to the cell, his shoulders hunched up. His eyes looked shifty. He inched to the right, behind Cassandra, who was standing directly in front of him, facing Raven.

"Algernon, you may go." He turned to practically sprint down the corridor, but stopped when her voice cut across the air again. "_Don't_ go too far, if you please. I'd like a word with you later."

Raven lost sight of the false-king. The only thing that marked his departure was the swift sound of footsteps echoing and then diminishing.

"I'll not waste any time, Noland - but, ah, what's this? You flinch when I speak your real name? How silly. You should own up to it, take full possession of it. After all, it marks you as the son of a king. Who wouldn't want that?"

Raven's face was stony. He didn't say anything.

"I know why. You feel more attached to your former name. _Raven_," she sneered. "What kind of idiotic name is that, anyway? Common as the commonest peasant. It belongs to a person who is worth no more than a speck of dust under my shoe. In that aspect, at least, it suits you perfectly."

She chuckled, but Raven was getting impatient. These soliloquies that she liked to indulge in, in front of an unwilling audience, were tiresome. He wished she would get to the point.

"I see you grow irritated. Fine, then. I will indulge you for once. I have come to grant you a gift, anyway, and I am impatient to see how it will be received." She smiled unpleasantly.

Raven backed away from her, as far as he could get in his tiny cell. This could not be good, whatever it turned out to be.

Her eyes were on him. He could not escape their gaze. Her smile grew wider, and she became very still. She spoke four words, to add to the dramatic effect:

"The curse is lifted," she half-whispered.

Raven clutched his head. For an instant, it felt like it would crack open. He fell to the ground, moaning with the pain.

And then it was over. He looked up at where Cassandra was standing. She was leveling him with an intense, almost eager expression. Cautiously, he stood. He had no idea what she had done to him. Something was different, though -

"Try to remember, Noland. Wrack your memory. Do you remember me, now?"

Then - _he knew._ He remembered _everything_.

It all flooded in, everything that had been missing before; everything that had been a blank before that day that Barton had found him in the woods.

He became immersed in remembering. His earliest memory: sitting on his father's lap. His father liked to have him nearby, always. Sometimes it was suffocating, but he tried not to protest. His father needed him.

In that moment he was comfortable; his father absentmindedly patted his head. Young Noland was playing with a golden ball, his current favorite toy. His father shifted suddenly in his seat and Noland dropped it. He watched as it rolled away underneath a chair. His father was occupied, talking with one of his advisors, but Danielle saw, and she went and retrieved it for him. She quietly gave it back to him, dexterously wiping away the few tears that had run down his chin with her handkerchief before removing herself to her chair by the door - all done without the notice of his father. She winked at Noland once before returning her attention to her embroidery.

Danielle - he remembered her, now. His nursemaid. A young woman with soft brown hair and softer brown eyes. Gentle and so patient. He had been mostly a very cheerful child, but he also had had a mischievous streak. Danielle had known how to handle him expertly.

In the next few remembrances, he couldn't have been much older - maybe no more than four years old.

His father surveying his riding lessons. His beloved pony, Lightning. Danielle chasing after him, trying to get him to take a bath. Hiding behind the tapestries in the banquet hall with Danielle's son, Theodore, spying on the meetings with the delegates from Selira. They ended up being more boring than exciting. When Noland had peeked to see what kind of tasty food was on offer, his father caught his eye and winked at him.

_His father._ His father was tall and lean, like him, but his hair was sandy brown. Their eyes were the same hazel.

_His father_, Nathaniel, was serious and stern, but always lightened when his son was in the room. With Noland, Nathaniel was almost carefree. Noland brought the spirit of his mother with him wherever he went; he was so like her in personality, and had her shining black hair. She had been dead since giving birth to him. Noland had been the light of his father's life ever since; the only one who could make Nathaniel laugh, the only one who could make him smile.

Raven could not see Cassandra anymore, he was so caught up in his memories of his life as Noland. They were ripe for the picking, like they had never been missing at all. The details washed over him in waves. He wanted to gather them up and hold them close. _Don't leave me again. You are a part of me._

One last memory, perhaps the most important of all, unveiled itself. Raven sucked in his breath. _This was how it came to be:_

_._

_._

_Danielle tucked him into bed, kissing him softly on the forehead. She smoothed back his thick hair with her hand fondly, and then pried his father's whistle from where it was clutched in his right hand. Nathaniel had told him a story before bed, and the whistle, as always, was the accompaniment. It had been whittled by Noland's great-grandfather, a legacy of storytelling. _

_As Noland closed his fist again reflexively, Danielle tucked the instrument into the shirt pocket of his sleeping tunic. "Goodnight, dear one," she whispered. He was too tired to answer. Sleep was already claiming him. He did not see her tip-toe out of the room._

_He awoke much, much later. He sat up in bed, fear stealing over his small frame. He had heard a noise - a creaking floorboard, or the monster groaning in his closet? He pulled the quilt up to his nose, peering around his dark bedroom._

_Nothing was there. He wouldn't be able to sleep unless he made sure, though. Determinedly, he flipped back his covers and jumped out of bed. The floor was cold on the soles of his bare feet. He reached for his mother's pendant, which lay on his bedside table. It had been a gift from his father. "She would have wanted you to have this," he had said. "It will always help keep you safe." Touching it gave him courage. He did so now, holding it in his left hand. Then he groped under his bed, reaching for his toy wooden sword. Gripping it in his right fist, he stalked toward his wardrobe. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. Noland raised the toy high above his head, and then yanked open the door._

_Nothing._

_He breathed out, one long sigh of relief. He dropped his arm, letting his grip relax on the sword._

_A floorboard creaked behind him._

_He spun around, and was immediately blinded by a piercing light, white and glowing. Frozen with shock, he even forgot about his intended weapon. It fell from his hand, clattering to his feet. As the light faded and the form of a woman grew distinct, he was slack-jawed and amazed. He even forgot to be afraid._

_The light was gone. The woman stood silently by his window. The air around her flickered and changed. Softly, she began to glow. He could make out her features; she was blonde and tall and beautiful. _

_"Are you a fairy?" Noland asked._

_"Yes," she said quietly._

_His eyes widened. A real fairy standing in his bedroom! Maybe she had come to grant him a wish!_

_"Why are you here?" he demanded.  
_

_"Why do you think I'm here?" Her voice was airy and light.  
_

_He frowned. A fairy should know things. Fairies were supposed to cast magic spells, not ask strange questions._

_"Have you come to grant me a wish?" _

_She smiled. "That is what I do."_

_A real wish from a real fairy! Noland knew what he wanted, more than anything.  
_

_"I want to see my mother. She died after I was born. Can you show her to me?"_

_"Yes," she said. "If you come with me, I can take you to her." She held out her hand to him. He had not been taught to distrust strangers, sheltered as he was in the castle. He padded over to her, taking her fingers willingly, with the trust that only a young child can possess. Her skin was cold. His mother's pendant swung loosely in his other hand; he absently stuffed it in one of his pockets.  
_

_"Don't be afraid," she said. The light grew stronger around them, and soon he could see nothing but white. He tightened his hold on her hand._ _Danielle had told him about fairies, and how they could do magic and grant wishes. Sometimes they even gave gifts. He expected no less from a real fairy who had magically appeared to him. She would take him to his mother, for he had always so longed to see her. Then Noland could tell his father that she was alright, and maybe the sadness in his eyes would go away.  
_

_Soon the whiteness disappeared, and he and the fairy were in a dark forest. He was scared, but the fairy was calm._

_"My mother isn't here, is she? This isn't right."_

_"No. She is still a long way from here. We've only stopped to rest. Close your eyes, little one, and we'll be there soon."_

_Dutifully, Noland closed his eyes. Something cold pressed against his forehead. After that, he was swallowed in darkness._

_When he woke up, he was alone. _

_It was still nighttime, and very cold. He had no shoes. He blundered through the dark, confused and afraid. He cried out for someone; he didn't know who. He walked through brambles and tore his clothes, the sharp branches cutting him. He bled and cried. His mind was horrifyingly blank; he couldn't remember anything. _

_He didn't know how he had gotten to the wood. He tried to remember his name; his head was pounding with the effort. His tears streamed freely; he longed for strong arms to wrap around him and carry him away. Eventually he laid himself down in a small hollow, curling into a ball. He fell asleep._

_When Noland woke again, it was midday. He thought maybe he had dreamed everything, but he was wrong. He cried again when he understood how truly alone he was._

_He was starving hungry. He wandered through the forest, managing to find a few berries to eat, nothing else. He drank from a clear stream and washed his cuts. His feet were bruised and bleeding, but there was nothing he could do. He wandered and walked. The forest was an endless wall of trees.  
_

_At sunset he could hear wolves howling somewhere close by. He climbed a tree, hugging the trunk with both arms, shivering and trembling with fear. The wolves howled all night, and Noland did not close his eyes once._

_The second day he was dead on his feet. He was faint with hunger, and so confused and scared that he crawled under a bush, huddling up and wishing he was dead._

_He didn't know how long he had laid there, dozing off and on. Sometimes he dreamed, but he was at a point where he couldn't tell the difference between wakefulness and sleeping. _

_Noland was wrapped inside a hazy cloud of sleepy hunger. A place where someone was whispering to him in a soft, sweet voice, "Don't be afraid, my dear. All will be well. All will be well... Look in your pocket... Look in your pocket..."_

_His hand found its way into his shirt pocket. He pulled out the object within: a wooden whistle. He might have been dreaming; he couldn't tell. He put it to his lips, blowing with what little strength he had left._

_A noise made him stop. He strained his ears. Voices in the distance?_

_Suddenly, he knew what to do. He blew on the whistle with all of the might left in his small body. His chubby, childish hands clumsily clutched at the whistle as he forced all of the air he had left through the instrument. The note it let forth was shrill, loud, and clear._

_The next thing he knew, the bushes rustled and he was being lifted up in strong, warm arms. A pair of twinkling blue eyes was looking at him._

_"What do we have here? Poor little fella." The stranger called over his shoulder to an unseen companion, "I've found somethin', Rob!" He shifted the boy in his arms. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you. You're safe now, aren't you?" The voice was reassuring and soothing in its deepness. "My name is Barton, lad. I'll take care of you, don't you worry."_

_For the first time in days, Noland felt safe. He let the stranger, Barton, carry him away._

_._

_.  
_

Tears fell from Raven's eyes. Cassandra still stood in front of the bars of his prison, silent but triumphant. He stared at her.

"I remember you. I remember everything. You took me from my home. You left me to die. You took me from my father, who needed me!"

In horror, he realized the pure truth of his words: his father would have been lost without him. In Raven's newly restored memories, it was there - Nathaniel looking on as he played, holding him on his knee or ruffling his hair in passing - he had been his father's touchstone, the one tie that kept him tethered to reality, to sanity, to his duties as a king. Nathaniel's one last happiness. Without his son, all of that would have gone up in smoke - and Cassandra could have waltzed right in and done whatever she wanted with the remains.

As she did; for his father was King Nathaniel, ruler of Haddora. The king who had, not long after the death of his wife and his son (_lies, lies, lies_), exiled himself from the eyes of the kingdom. The king who, it was said, had lost his mind. Raven knew the truth of that rumor, now, and the sting of it was sharp and cut him to the core.

What a mess she had made, the fairy Cassandra, and at what great cost - a payment she took from all but herself. She didn't care; she only wanted what she wanted, and would knock down whomever or whatever got in her path.

The great sadness in Raven suddenly turned to fury. He leaped at the bars of his prison, reaching his arms through the slots to get at her, to punch, to kick, to wipe that stupid smile off her falsely beautiful face -

The fairy only stepped back out of his reach serenely, smiling in the face of his rage. This only made him more angry, angrier than he could ever remember being in his life. He yelled, cursing her with all of the foul words he could come up with. He shook the iron bars uselessly, until his strength gave out. He stepped back, breathing heavily.

Cassandra still smiled; it was like she was watching a particularly delightful show. He couldn't face her anymore. He turned away, slumping over to sit with his head between his knees in a corner of the cell, facing the stone wall. Algernon had come to gloat; Cassandra had come to torture.

Cassandra watched him pleasantly for a few more minutes before she left him. He hated the white light glancing and reflecting on the stone, marking her departure. Somehow, he knew it was a put-on, and he loathed her all the more for it.

Raven could not find it in himself to wish that none of the events of the past had happened. Without them, he never would have found Nora. She was what he thought of now. He bent all of his thoughts toward her, imagining that she was with him.

She would have given him space to think, to grieve, to cry if he wished, until he was ready for company. Then she would have put her arms around him and stroked his cheek, or sat with him silently, just holding his hand.

She would have comforted him better than anything in the world.

* * *

_**If it wasn't already obvious, we are catapulting toward the end of the story. Next chapter will be partially from Nora's POV, and Big Things are about to happen. :D**_


	21. Her Rightful Place

**21 - HER RIGHTFUL PLACE**

Not sixteen leagues away from where Raven was being held, a group of people huddled in the middle of a dense wood.

To a passerby, it would not have been immediately apparent that they were there at all. A stag had even passed within twenty paces of them, and had not even so much as looked their way. The animal's eyes had slid right past them, as if they were only part of the forest scenery.

One of the group, a young man, lifted off the hood of his cloak to scratch a spot on the back of his neck. Without its adornment, it was as if a bright light was shining on his face and the rest of his body was in shadow.

"Henry! Put your hood back on!" someone whispered loudly, but before Henry could do it himself, the speaker yanked it back over his head.

"Hey, Jerry!" he whispered back, annoyed, but Jerry's hand only reached out to shove him in response. Henry made a grab for the arm, but his brother eluded him.

A stern whisper from Mandy shut them all up. "Boys!"

Silence prevailed again.

"Is he coming or not?" Gareth asked under his breath, after a long pause.

Char turned from where he was crouched behind a large bush. Ella and Mandy were slightly further back, stooping behind some trees, and three of the four brothers were darting silently from trunk to trunk, watching the road. Finally, Char said, "Here's David."

David, the missing brother, appeared next to Gareth. He nodded to everyone, and then answered the unspoken question.

"Our friend has just entered the wood. He's an excellent tracker, Father; we confused him for awhile by splitting up, but he picked up the trail again within a day, and made up for lost time quite easily. I'd say he's about a quarter of a league away. I went off the path and cut across the wood to beat him here. If we want to ambush him, now is our chance." David was the best scout out of any of them, and he had once again proved his abilities.

Char nodded, glancing at Jerry. They had formed a plan to rid themselves of the stranger on their tail. It was rudimentary, at best, but they did not need this extra worry, the threat of this person following them and discovering their true motives, and then hurrying back to whoever had sent him and reporting all he knew - or worse, alerting Kyrrian forces to hunt them down.

The situation was more perilous than it ever had been. The border of Kyrria wasn't more than two leagues away.

Everyone in the party went silent again as they waited tensely for the expected arrival.

* * *

Nora pulled her cloak further around herself, huddling up with her back against the wind. She leaned against a rock she had stumbled into, her knees and arms tight against her chest. She could hardly see the scenery around her, so thick was the snowfall. Despite the sturdy wool of the cloak, the wind bit through it and chilled her to the bone. The day was just beginning to lighten at the edges, attempting to erase the night. The snow kept falling.

Another chill took over her body, and she shuddered all over with shivers, her teeth clacking together. The tracks of tears on her cheeks had long dried up, but her face still felt raw, and her eyes stung sharply. She could barely think. She had to do something, for if she kept on as she was, she would freeze to death.

It was hard to push Raven out of her mind. Where was he now? Was he all right? A shot of warmth went through her as she remembered the last thing he had said to her. _I love you_.

It had been there all along. His warm smiles, his eagerness to please, his teasing, his brooding silences. Even the incident at the festival made sense - he _had_ been lovesick, but not about Greta. The heat washed through her again at this thought. After the revelation of the truth, hindsight let her see exactly how it had been.

It was all she needed.

Determination broke through despair. This was not the end. She would not let their fates be decided for them.

She was growing colder by the second. She had to get her blood moving. She had to think fast. The answer, of course, was simple.

Nora wasn't a fairy, but she had magic. She was beginning to rely upon it, to trust herself.

Cassandra could disappear and reappear at will, it seemed. Could she do the same?

Shivering violently, she got up. She stood uncertain for a moment, not at all sure of where she should go. Back to her village? Windmere? Dora? As a particularly violent shudder trembled through her body, and as her toes became more and more numb by degrees, she realized that _getting somewhere warm_ should be her first priority. She would worry about the rest after that. She closed her eyes, gathering up her thoughts. She had not the faintest idea how to go about the whole thing, but she decided to rely on her instincts - so far, they had been pretty reliable. For destination, she settled on somewhere near the vicinity of Windmere. She wanted to be back in Haddora, for some reason, but not as far away as Foothill Knell.

She tried to focus on the pine forest, the rocky landscape of the foothills, the merry little village of Windmere - but Raven's face kept inserting itself in the middle of her thoughts, and she could not stop the intense longing and anxiety that swept through her at seeing it. _Concentrate_, she thought firmly, but it was so difficult. . . the images in her mind kept flipping between Raven, a shady pine forest that she remembered near Windmere, and a childish pull towards _home_, though that did not really exist for her. Had it ever? Even so, she was still young enough to want a benevolent, loving figure to step in, to protect her, to make everything right. She was desperately alone, everything was a mess, and she needed that kind of comfort.

She wasn't going to get it. She tried to push the wanting of it, of the general feeling of _home_, away from her.

She agitatedly tried to hone in on where she wanted to go as she felt the familiar sensations of her power.

She was failing utterly. She could not focus. She was _so cold_.

She could feel her body leaving. She was becoming air. She panicked, not knowing if this was what was supposed to happen. Her eyes flew open, but the snowy landscape in front of her was fading away. Her skin tingled all over; it was like all of her limbs had pins-and-needles. She squeezed her eyes shut again.

The last thing she remembered was a strange falling sensation.

Then: the air was suddenly warmer. It enveloped her like an embrace. The falling sensation was no longer just a sensation; something was scratching at her clothing, and she heard many small snaps and cracks and rustlings before she landed flat on her back. An outburst of breath pushed out of her lungs with an _oof._

She opened her eyes. High above her head, a leafy canopy arched, the leaves green and tinged with yellow against an azure sky. All around her were branches and leaves and poking twigs. Her cloak was tangled partly around her legs and partly around one of the protruding branches. Before she could come to her senses, a couple of figures moved into her sightline. They were silhouetted against the sky, and she could not see them clearly at first. For one wild moment, she thought they were animals.

Many pairs of eyes stared down at her - and then they were gone. Through the roaring in her ears, she could hear shouts. She blinked furiously, recovering from the shock of what had just happened.

Not animals - _people_.

* * *

The woods were completely silent. Not even a breath of breeze stirred the stillness. Char and Jerry crouched behind a tangle of brush close to the road. Ella had abandoned Mandy, creeping up to hide herself behind a tree that was closer to her son and husband. Gareth, David, and Henry were standing solemnly, a little ways apart from the rest, alert on the balls of their feet. Their weapons were drawn in case things got out of hand. Gareth had a coil of rope on one arm.

There was no way this wouldn't be easy. It would be seven against one. The plan was infallible.

David stilled suddenly, tilting his ear to the right. He held up one finger wordlessly, signaling the others. Their follower was coming down the path.

Jerry and Char could hear the faint sound of leaves crunching, of boots tamping down the earth. They tensed, ready for their moment to spring. Ella clenched her fists, watching their backs. She didn't want anyone to get hurt.

The footsteps were light and efficient, and they drew ever closer.

A great crash of snapping branches and rustling leaves interrupted the silent wood a few feet away from where they were all positioned. Seven heads snapped around in alarm to whatever had caused the noise, somewhere behind them. It had sounded like a small tree falling over, knocking into its kin. There was no time to think of their ambush, or if their target had heard. All of a sudden, a girl was in their midst. She lay prostrate on the ground, tangled in the branches, breathing heavily. Her eyes were squeezed shut.

"What in the name of - ?" Henry said, voicing all of their thoughts perfectly. He and Gareth moved forward without thinking, peering down at her incredulously.

Mandy was looking at the girl rather suspiciously, but nobody noticed. _A young one who is still inept, or another Lucinda?_ she thought. Mandy knew magic when she saw it.

David was looking between the girl and the road with shock and anxiety. "Father, the ambush - what if he heard?" he whispered frantically.

As if in answer to his question, a figure came crashing through the trees, from the direction of the path - their follower. He stared around at them, startled, as if he had not expected them to be there.

The girl was momentarily forgotten as everyone whirled to his arrival. The ambushers were, apparently, the ambushed. Five swords and one dagger were immediately brandished. Char gently put his hand on Ella's trembling arm, to indicate that she could lower her weapon, but she only glared at him, shaking her head. Meanwhile, their follower held up his empty hands, his eyes cautioning them.

"Please," he said. "Please, I've been looking for you _everywhere_. Let me explain." Slowly, he lowered his right arm, reaching his hand down to his sword belt.

"He's drawing his sword!" Henry yelled, and before anyone could stop him, he jumped forward and tackled the stranger. Immediately they were rolling around on the ground, wrestling and struggling. Everyone else was shouting, and the scene dissolved into utter chaos. As Char and the other brothers ran forward to break up the fight, as Ella and Mandy shouted at them all to stop, the girl who was lying in the brush sat up, staring around her with wide eyes. If anyone had been able to give her another glance, they would have seen that they were a shade somewhere between blue and violet. She stiffened as she took in the commotion in front of her. She drew into herself, trying not to attract any attention. If she moved, she would surely be noticed.

Finally, Jerry and Gareth managed to haul Henry off of the stranger. Henry huffed and puffed, his face bright red, all but unharmed. The stranger remained on the ground, sitting up but waving away Char's offered hand. His lip was swollen, and he felt it tenderly with his fingers, checking for blood.

"Let me offer our most sincere apologies," Char said formally. "Moreover, please forgive my son. He is quick to act before he thinks." He looked pointedly at Henry.

"My apologies," Henry muttered. "In my defense, you _have_ been following us for some time, and I was loathe to trust the first and _only_ sentence we have ever heard slip from your mouth." He glared around the circle at his family, daring one of them to argue with his logic.

Char sighed heavily. "Yes, Henry, but I saw what he was reaching for all along - I could see the rolled-up piece of parchment sticking out of his belt pouch. You weren't thinking, and didn't realize that his sword was hanging on his other side." Henry's face reddened further at this, and he mumbled more apologies, looking abashed. Char put his hand on his shoulder, murmuring in an aside, "Think before you act, that's all. An honest mistake."

The stranger stood up, brushing the dirt off of himself. "Don't think on it anymore, lad. I probably would have done the same, were I in your shoes." His accent was noticeable, as he pronounced his _a's_ more like _e's_, and he made his _s's_ soft and barely formed. Only Char and Ella recognized it as Seliran. He reached again for the paper tucked into the pouch hanging on his sword belt, handing it to Char. Much more brusquely, he said, "I was given a task, and that is why I have been trying to _find_ you, not follow you - you gave me one heck of a time, too, it took me _months _and _months_. Her Majesty trusts me implicitly with such secret business. I was honored to scour the countryside and unearth what I could. She suspected all along that you were alive; I'll be pleased as punch to report back that she was right."

As he was talking, Char had paused at the seal on the parchment. Ella, who had moved to his elbow, glanced up at him briefly. He met her eyes once before breaking the seal and unrolling the message.

_My dearest brother,_

_You are reading this missive because my most trusted guard and scout, Lionel, has found you at last. I have no doubt that he will put this into your hands, not only because he is the best, but also because I know within my heart that you, Ella, and my nephews are alive and well. The circumstances of your disappearance were too strange to ignore, and though a rumor that Algernon had secretly gotten rid of you all floated around for a long time, I know from experience that he is too stupid to concoct such an intricate scheme. Remember all of the tricks we used to play on him? Daft fool._

_Kentley told me I should be more cautious, but I went ahead with my plan anyway. Matters in Kyrria have only been growing worse and worse, and it's time that action was taken. We tried to rally our neighbors to the cause, but Haddora could not help (Nathaniel did not even show his face when I visited his court), and Ayortha didn't want to get involved. Kent tried to speak with some of the lesser nobles at the Kyrrian court, all sly and roundabout (you know how good he is at that - it's how he won _me_, after all) but none of them would hear a word against Algernon. It's almost as if they're under a spell, they're so taken!_

_Kent and I both agree wholeheartedly, now: Kyrria's downfall effects everyone, including our own tiny country. We must do something._

_This is my charge to you, then: if you are found, we will send help. Trust Lionel; he will do everything he can. He has been ordered to return to Selira once he discovers you, and to carry your reply to us. After that, we will be nothing if not expedient in sending whatever assistance you need._

_If you doubt the truth of this letter and the identity of the sender, here is your proof: That day that we slid down the stair-rail and you shred your breeches to bits, I hid the tatters in the statue of Richard the XI, in the bowl he holds - so that our tutor would never find out that the crown prince of Kyrria had been behaving in such an "unseemly" manner, and so our peers would never laugh you out of the castle. You escaped before I hid them, so you never knew. Your quick exit was understandable, though. A prince in his underpants in the grand hall is not something that would go unnoticed, or ungossiped about._

_Your loving, faithful sister,_

_CECILIA_

Ella had been reading along with Char, and her curious expression grew into a smile as she finished the message. She put her hand on Char's arm as he stared out into the distance wonderingly, a half-smile on his face. Warmly, she reached up and kissed his cheek. He came to himself at her touch, his smile spreading to match hers. He put his hand to her face for a second, cupping her chin and dimpled cheek briefly before rolling up the letter and stowing it in a hidden breast-pocket in his tunic.

"Lady, who is it from?" asked Mandy, frowning.

Ella looked around at them as she told them. "Cecilia. She sent this man to find us, so she could send us help."

There was a collective intake of breath.

"Does Uncle Kent know?" David asked.

"Yes," said Char. "It appears that we have Selira behind us, now." His eyes looked shiny. "Cecilia never stopped believing that we were alive."

"You understand who I am now, and that you can trust me?" Lionel said then, seeing their reactions.

Char held out his hand. "Lionel, I am honored to meet you, and the answer is _yes_."

Instead of shaking the proffered hand, Lionel knelt in front of them, touching his fingers to his temple and bowing his head. "No, King Charmont; Queen Eleanor - _I_ am the one who is honored. To have the opportunity to serve you and my queen -"

"Please, there is no need for such formality. We are indebted to you, we're sure." Ella nodded gravely, and then brightened. "Call us Char and Ella," she said, her dimples reappearing. She turned to the others. "You've already met one of our twins, Henry. You probably know him better than you like, even," she said coyly, which earned some good-natured chuckling. "And here are our other sons: Jerrold - Jerry - our eldest, and Gareth and David. . . and Mandy is our. . . uh, cook."

"And who is that young maiden who sits so quiet over yonder? She looks familiar." Lionel put his hand to his chin, frowning as he studied her.

Everyone had completely forgotten the mysterious girl in the tumult of the events. They all turned to look at her. She had heard quite a bit, enough to cause trouble. Somehow, no one was worried about that as they all gazed at her. She stared back at them, her look morphing from fearful to confused, watchful to intense. Her hair was long and rather wild, in waves of darkest brunette. Her blue gown was stained and wrinkled. Her face - every single person besides Lionel was captivated by _her face_. The curves of it were so familiar - the round cheeks, the delicate nose, even the shape of the brows. And the freckles. The family freckles. . .

Lionel's question remained unanswered. Ella stepped forward, her hand reaching out. She moved closer to the girl, and then stopped some paces away, becoming very still. Her hand dropped to her side, slowly. Even more slowly, she lowered herself to the ground, to the girl's level, breathing out one, long breath. She put one hand over her heart. _I know you. You visited my dreams; you've lived in my heart since the day I knew you were growing in my womb. _Green eyes stared into violet. Ella was shaking, and she could not trust herself to move.

The girl was silent, but she sat as still and wide-eyed as a deer.

Mandy was mumbling under her breath in awe, "Oh my land. Oh my land. Oh my -"

"Wait, I know where I've seen her before," Lionel said, snapping his fingers. "We met you on Queen Cecilia's voyage to Dora! I was one of her guards; you brought us ale when we stopped for directions." He smiled at her. "Good, kind girl. I'm glad to see you again."

The "good, kind girl" didn't appear to notice that he was talking to her, nor did Lionel seem to notice the great event that was happening right in front of him.

Everyone had been lost in shock, in realization, but they started forward - Char, the brothers - and they all could see what Ella saw: a treasured face, lost long ago, much altered but still the same, inexplicably _found_. Char crouched down next to Ella, holding her hand, and they both stared at their child, their hearts in their throats. The two of them hung back, afraid to overwhelm her. The four young men went to her, helping her to her feet, untangling her cloak. She moved dazedly, like she wasn't sure if she wasn't dreaming. No one said a word. Nora's brothers stared into her face, and she stared back at them. They stood and looked at each other, some remembering, some marveling, some memorizing.

In their features, she saw herself. Three of them had the freckles - spread across the nose and cheeks, like the older man's - and one of them had her ears. The youngest, in particular, could have been her twin, though he was a little older than her, and his eyes were green. And then there was the woman. The color of the hair, the shape of the eyes, the slender build, the nose and cheeks. . . so alike. . .

So far, Nora had heard only one name that she recognized: Cecilia. An unbelievable coincidence, she had thought. But then. . . the others. . .

Logically, Nora didn't know who these people were, but at the same time, intuitively, she _knew_.

"Nora?" Jerry said tentatively, holding his hand out, palm up, like she was a wild animal he had to coax. In answer, she carefully placed her hand in his, nodding with feeling.

That one small action broke the tension. All at once, Nora was being hugged on all sides, and there was laughter and exclamations. One of them lifted her up and twirled her around. One of them ruffled her hair. Their voices climbed over each other.

"Nora!"

"I can hardly believe it!"

"Dear sister!"

"This is _amazing!_"

The brothers, _her_ brothers, broke apart, smiling at her with such love and warmth and recognition that she felt tears filling her eyes. She still hadn't spoken. _Sister, sister, sister_, echoed in her head. She could hardly comprehend what was happening to her. It didn't feel real. How did she get here? She must have muddled something up along the way. . . she hadn't been able to focus. . . and that mistake had deposited her here. She remembered the childish feeling that had tugged at her - scared and lost on the mountain, alone in a blizzard, Raven gone - she had wanted to go home. She had thought that it didn't exist, but maybe it had, all along. Maybe it had been waiting for her. Maybe a tiny part of her, buried deep in her unconscious, remembered this - these people, this feeling.

When the boys stood aside, she didn't really understand what they were doing, until she realized that the man and woman were standing behind them. The man had his arm around the woman, who was clasping her hands together under her chin anxiously. Her face was wet with tears.

Timidly, Nora took a step toward them. She glanced up at the man. He was smiling at her, so patiently, so kindly, with such love and pride in his eyes, that it was like he was saying, _Oh my daughter, you are back where you belong_. His smile was all the encouragement she needed. _Everything_ was in that smile.

She spoke for the first time.

". . .Mother? . . .Father?" Her voice wavered. She felt like a small child.

All of a sudden her tears were flowing thick and fast, because her parents were nodding and smiling and crying. The sweetness of the moment hung in the air. It was all around; she could taste it. Her mother reached for her again; the small space remaining between them was still too far. The salty saline of her tears blurred her vision as she stumbled forward into the safety of their waiting arms. She was embraced, held, sheltered.

This was what she had been wanting, what she had longed for all of her life -

_Home._

_

* * *

_

_**At last, reunion! I always planned for them to meet again this way. Mandy is going to have a little talking-to with Nora about her magic, though. She has so much to learn!  
**_

_**Thanks again and again and again and again to those who keep reading this story, and those who have caught up!**_


	22. A Little Help

**22 - A LITTLE HELP**

Nora found a place within the family fold quickly enough.

After the joyous exclamations and greetings born of a reunion long overdue, Mandy had screened off a wooden tub, proclaiming that Nora "stank to high heaven" and needed "a good scrubbing."

She had not so much as introduced herself to Nora, and no one else had felt the need to, either. She had simply marched up to the dazed girl, engulfed her in a fierce hug, and then promptly dragged her off to be cleaned up. Nora had glanced behind her once, to the family she had just had the fortune to rediscover, but they were all hugging each other and talking together. She wanted to stay with them, but she supposed that there would be time for talking soon enough. She didn't need to subject them to her unwashed, fresh-from-the-road stench any longer.

As Mandy poured buckets of warm, sudsy water over her again and again, she could feel her weariness melting away. Mandy handed her a washcloth so she could scrub her face. Once she had done so, Mandy smiled. "Ah. Now that I can see you properly, you're as pretty as a posy, sweet." Nora smiled up at the woman, warming to the endearments she used with such abandon. She had been surprised to be so lovingly addressed at first, but soon understood. Mandy wasn't related to the others, but somehow, she was family, too. The way everyone acted around her was proof enough. She mothered all of them, in her way, and they were all her "dears", or "loves", or "sweets."

Despite Nora's filthiness, the water remained clear. Despite the time she spent in the tub, the suds never lessened, nor did the sweet scent of roses. The water never cooled, retaining its steamy, relaxing heat. It was very odd. She drew her brows together, frowning into the water. Mandy, plump arms moving efficiently to scrub the back of Nora's neck, seemed to smile knowingly.

"Is there something I'm missing?" Nora asked.

"What do you mean, child?" Mandy replied, soaping up Nora's hair.

"My. . . mother . . . " - it was still so strange to say the word - "said that you are their cook. But they don't _treat_ you like any old cook. They all love you. I can tell. You love all of them, too. There's a connection here that I'm missing. . . And another thing - are you using magic for my bath?"

"My, what an observant little thing you are, Nora. I'm not surprised, you were just so as a baby - always still and watchful with your big, round eyes. I often wondered what thoughts were running through your little head."

Nora loved every minute of this - the gentleness of someone who loved her washing her hair, reminiscing about her babyhood - it was like a scene out of someone else's life, someone whom she had always envied. It was wonderful. She hadn't forgotten her question, though. "I _am_ right, then. Please explain, Mandy?"

"There is something you must understand, first. This is a family secret, what I'm about to tell, and it is to _stay_ in the family until the sun shines blue and the grass grows pink. Is that clear, young lady?" Mandy had stopped washing Nora's hair so she could look her square in the face. Nora simply looked back with such a clear-eyed expression that Mandy didn't need to hear any answer. "Lean forward, love, so I can rinse. There." She tilted Nora's head a little further, and then tipped the pitcher she was using. Without pausing, she said, "I'm your fairy godmother."

Nora couldn't do anything at the moment, as Mandy was pouring water over her hair, but she could still talk. "Mandy? Really?"

"Of course. I am your mother's, as well, and I was her mother's, and her mother's. You come from a long line of Eleanors, dear, a very noble line of women."

Nora's head was spinning. Her fairy godmother!

"That's another thing I wanted to talk to you about. I saw the way you dropped in here, from out of nowhere. What were you thinking?"

This drew Nora up short. "I thought no one noticed."

"Hmph! I know magic when I see it. The others probably have forgotten all about it, in all the commotion, so you're half right. The real problem, though, is that I thought no goddaughter of mine would ever use Big magic, and especially not in front of regular people."

"What's Big magic?"

This time, Mandy stopped in her tracks, and the water stopped flowing from the pitcher as she froze in shock.

"Mandy? Mandy, are you all right?"

Mandy breathed out, lowering the pitcher to her side, putting one hand to her chest. "I'm all right, except that you nearly made my heart stop! You mean to tell me that you've never heard of Big magic? Who taught you? Whoever they are, I'm going to wring their neck!"

Nora's eyes were wide with confusion. "No one taught me. I - I sort of taught myself."

"Oh, good heavens! Of course. I only assumed that you were taught, since disappearing and reappearing is complicated magic. I guess I have no idea how you were raised, or who raised you - if there _was_ someone at all?" Mandy raised her eyebrows inquiringly.

"Well, yes, there was someone - someone who looked after me, in a sense. She fed me and clothed me and put a roof over my head" - _most of the time_, she amended to herself - "but other than that, she had nothing to do with me, besides giving me chores and work."

Mandy was silent. She was putting some kind of wonderful-smelling stuff in Nora's hair. Nora pulled back her head from Mandy's hands, so she could turn and look at her. "Oh, Mandy, I'm sorry! Please don't cry." Mandy shook her head, wiping at her red-rimmed eyes with a careless hand.

"Don't bother about me, I'll be all right. You poor thing. It breaks my heart to think about the years you had to spend without anyone to love you."

Hazel eyes flashed through Nora's mind at this. Raven. _Oh, Raven, I haven't forgotten you._ Guilt seeped through her as she realized how side-tracked she was getting. Raven was still out there somewhere, under Cassandra's heel, and here she was, wasting precious time. Tears stung at her eyes. Angrily, she shook her head, as if to shake off the waterworks. She had done too much crying, lately.

"What is it?" Mandy's concerned voice broke in.

She had tried to stave them off, but the tears streaked down her cheeks obstinately, anyway. Nora let them go, looking around her for a towel to dry off. "I can't stay here with all of you, Mandy. There's someone else, someone I had through those years, and he's in danger. I was on my way to find him when I accidentally ended up here." Mandy handed her the towel, helping her stand up and wrap herself in it.

"Who is he, love?"

"His name is Raven. He's my best friend. . . _more_ than my best friend - he's everything to me. I've known him since I was a small child. He - he loves me." At this last sentence, she burst into sobs. Maybe it was the stress of everything that had happened, finally cracking her open, maybe it was making up for all the tears she had swallowed throughout her life, but this was the hardest she had ever cried, and she didn't seem to be able to stop. She felt herself embraced, and she could smell a faint whiff of yeast and something subtly floury and sugary - Mandy's scent. Mandy held her as she wept.

"Oh, precious, don't cry. We'll tell your mother and father - we'll help you, sweet. Don't you worry. Everything will be fine. Shhhh," Mandy soothed.

"But Mandy, I _must_ go, I've not a second to lose -"

"Hush, now. If you're so determined, we won't stop you, but at least let us send you off right, and give you what help we can. There's time enough for that. Please, dear, it will break your mother's heart if you run off so quick."

Nora shuddered as she caught her breath, the sobs subsiding. She paused, then nodded into Mandy's shoulder.

"That's my girl. What's more, if I have my way, we'll talk about Big magic, as well. You must be taught."

Nora didn't respond. She didn't think there was time for anything more. She could not get Raven's face out of her mind.

She could give her family a proper goodbye, nothing more. She hoped they would meet again. Nothing was certain, and she was afraid that this chance encounter was all she would ever get. She quailed at the thought, but there was no way of knowing what was to come. She would just have to cherish however long she got.

* * *

Nora sat nestled between her mother and her godmother, listening to the others talk around the fire. They had just finished their evening meal, and dusk was settling in. The men were discussing moving on the next morning, making plans. The three women sat silently, observing and listening, but mostly drawing strength and comfort from each other. Nora's head bobbed as her eyes threatened to close. She was utterly spent. She had told them all, haltingly and in her quiet way, her entire story: from growing up in the cottage with Gladys, to Cassandra's treachery on the mountain, to appearing in the wood. None of them had been surprised to learn that she possessed magical abilities, Ella least of all. During the whole tale she had been half in tears, and afterward she had no more strength for speech. She leaned her head on her mother's shoulder, now, smelling lavender and fresh linen. Her mother's hands began stroking her hair.

She had thrown on her cloak after her family knew everything, raring to go even though she had no idea which direction to turn, but they had convinced her to stay. Without a plan, Char had said, she was as good as blind, and she would only waste time fumbling about the countryside with no true direction. Unwillingly, she accepted that she had no idea what to do or where to go. She had moved off a little ways and sat by herself at the base of an oak, her knees pulled up and bracing her arms, which she laid her head upon. No one had dared approach her; they did not know what would comfort her, or how best to buoy her up. They did not truly know all of her yet, and they mourned this fact greatly.

After a length of time, David had drawn near to her, very slowly. He sat by her side, not saying a word. After a few minutes, she had pulled up her head and looked at him. He gave her a half-smile, and to the relief of everyone else (pretending not to glance in their direction, but really hanging on tenterhooks to see what would happen), she scooted closer to him and linked her arm in his. He ruffled her hair affectionately, and she smiled. After a few more minutes of sitting together silently, David had led Nora back to the campfire. Ella and Mandy had closed in on her, taking her under their collective wing, and she still sat where she had been tucked between them.

Beyond the fire, Lionel was packing up, getting ready to head out. With him, secured on his person, was Char's message for Cecelia and her husband, Kentley, the monarchs of Selira. He requested reinforcements - not to wage war or to start violence, but to give them some leverage as they made their way to Kyrria, to Frell, to the castle. A troop large enough to give them passage, large enough to keep apprehension at bay, and large enough to impress Algernon to negotiate. It was the best they could do. They were thankful that Selira was willing to put itself on the line for the cause.

Cassandra, though - what to do about _her_, no one knew. As Nora had recounted her tale for them all, it had become rather obviously apparent that she was Nora's kidnapper, Kyrria's true usurper, and the source of its curse. She was like a villainess out of the old tales, conglomerated from the likes of all of the crafty witches, evil queens, and jealous stepmothers.

In the back of all of their minds was the fact that, without dealing with Cassandra, they were not addressing the true problem. What could they do, though? She was a fairy who did not seem to understand that certain boundaries should never be crossed, who cared little for the consequences of her careless spells, and who would not bat an eyelash at cursing them all into oblivion.

The one advantage they had over Cassandra was her seeming indifference to them. Either she was not counting on them lifting a finger to fight back, after so long, or she had decided that they weren't worth bothering about - not at all a threat to her. She probably felt safe in the fact that they could never return to their homeland. Fortunately for them, a lot of circumstances had come together that would, however riskily, allow them to do just that.

"Nora could be a threat," Henry said. They all stared at him. For her part, Nora was sound asleep on Ella's shoulder. "Come on," he said, as if stating the obvious. "She's a _mortal_ who can do _magic_. How many people like that are just walking around out in the world?" He looked at Mandy, as if for confirmation.

"What are you saying, that she should face Cassandra?" Mandy squirmed in her seat, uncomfortable with the idea of magical showdowns that would mean Big magic in spades. Had Nora been awake, she would have agreed. Mandy had carefully explained everything to her: Consequences and possible environmental Catastrophes, with a capitol "C".

"Out of the question, as you very well know. You're right about one thing, though. I wouldn't say more than a handful in all the world are like her. She's that rare. _However_ -" she looked at him sternly - "that doesn't mean she is exempt from the consequences, Henry. We have proof straight from her mouth; she told us about the avalanche after she compelled the dragon, and who knows what happened when she stopped that tree. She didn't realize it at the time, but there it is. It's a mercy that no one was harmed, as far as we know."

"She's different, special. It has to mean _something_," he muttered.

"Maybe it will, in the end, but right now we have to think of what's practical," Jerry said.

"Nothing practical can help us at a time like this, Jerry," Gareth said quietly.

Silence. The only sound was that of the lonely wind moaning through the trees.

Char broke the spell. "We'd best all sleep on it," he said, straightening up. "The hour is getting late. Poor Nora is already out like a light." Everyone looked at her fondly. She was lightly snoring, her head heavy on Ella's shoulder, whose hand was still busy soothing the troubled brow. Mother and daughter together made a very pretty picture; Char couldn't help but smile at them. He walked over, lifting up Nora gently in his arms, as if she was still a little girl. She slept on, oblivious, as her parents removed themselves from the circle of the fire and tucked her into a bed inside the wagon.

Nora slept evenly, though her dreams were a turmoil of blizzards and beautiful fairies that turned into ugly harpies, ready to sink their claws into Raven, unconscious and unprotected, asleep in a boat drifting out to sea. . .

Her dreams shifted and changed, but their colors were all the same.

* * *

The next day, they moved farther south, father away from any towns or villages, but edging closer to the Kyrrian border. They were safe enough in this area - at least, to a point. It was largely unpopulated as the Fens, where the ogres lived, wasn't far off. They had left the wagon behind, covered by leafy boughs and scrubby brush, looking as if it had been abandoned ages ago. They moved much more expediently on foot. Only Jerry rode astride a mount, his old mare Sally.

Lionel was long gone, as he had slipped like a shadow into the previous night. He would skirt the southern border of Kyrria, making his way east and south, to Selira and the coast. With any luck, the Seliran troops would be meeting them in the vast border forest of Ayortha - nothing but beeches and birches for miles - in a little more than a week.

Nora remained mostly silent as she walked beside Gareth. He would talk to her quietly now and then, maybe point out an interesting bird in the trees every once in awhile, or offer her a swig from his canteen, but mostly he seemed content with companionable silence. Gareth and David were the brothers she felt immediately at ease with, maybe because they were much like her in personality, and understanding sprang up quickly between them. It was Jerry and Henry who took some getting used to. The way they rough-housed - Henry probably the most playful of all of them - was disconcerting, but she wasn't used to being surrounded by boys.

Their banter was easier for her to understand. After she had gotten over her initial shyness, she found herself jumping into their discussions, and they welcomed her opinions. They all had quick tongues, but she and Jerry were able to hold their own especially well. Eventually, her brothers sought out her opinions and advice.

She glowed with pleasure at the fact that she so easily fit into the family circle. It was like they had been saving her place for her all the long time that she had been missing.

They were stopping for a brief rest, she and Gareth sitting beside each other on a large rock, sharing some bread and cheese, when Ella approached. She was carrying a leather-bound book in her arms.

"Nora, there's something I want to show you."

Gareth sprang up, stuffing the last morsel of his share of the bread into his mouth. "Ahm goin' to go wif Faver an' David," he said, spraying crumbs everywhere. Nearby, Char and David were readying to go scout a few miles ahead.

Nora stood up, too, and she laughed at Gareth's bulging cheeks. "Swallowing is usually a good idea, Gareth," she said. In answer, he made a big show of chewing up the remaining food in his mouth, slowly swallowing the whole lump down with a loud gulping noise. His face was covered in crumbs. He burst out laughing at Nora's disgusted expression, showering her with them.

"Ew!" she exclaimed, turning her head away.

"Goodbye, Nora," he said sweetly. He wiped his mouth off, and then pecked his mother on the cheek. "Goodbye mother. We'll be back in an hour or two."

Ella laughed. "I swear, sometimes I forget that all of you are grown up, with the way you regress sometimes."

Nora shrugged happily, sitting back on the rock. Not more than five seconds later, her expression dimmed, the brightness in her eyes fading. The happiness was fleeting. She sighed heavily, her eyebrows drawing together.

Ella settled herself beside her, holding the book she was carrying on her lap. She put her arm around Nora. Nora's head went down on her shoulder. Gently, Ella rested her own head on top of Nora's hair. "I know," she said softly. "I know how worried you are about him. You mustn't despair, though, darling. We'll find a way." They sat like that for a minute, Nora simply trying to concentrate on breathing in and out and _not_ on what Raven might be going through at that very second, until Ella shifted slightly. "Sit up, now. I want to show you something. It might lift your spirits a little."

Obediently, Nora sat up, trying to look at her mother with interest. Ella smiled a little to herself at this, but hid it by gesturing at the book. This piqued Nora a little bit, even more so when Ella shoved it into her lap, opening the cover.

On the first page was an illustration of a map. There were a few familiar names, there: Haddora, Kyrria, Ayortha, Selira. "Is this an atlas?" Nora asked.

"No," Ella said. "Look closer. What do you see?"

Nora bent closer to the book. She touched a bright blue star on the map, near the border of Kyrria. Three blue dots were crowded together, to the south of the star. "What do these mean? I've never seen these kind of symbols on a map."

Ella tapped the star. "This is where we are." She moved her finger to indicate the tiny blue dots. "These are the missing members of our party: your father, David, and Gareth." Her finger moved again, to a little red castle on the map. The name of _Frell_ was inscribed in curly script underneath. "This is the city of Frell, in Kyrria. Our true home."

"Frell," Nora repeated. She didn't remember it, of course. She had heard bits and pieces from the others of what had happened, what had forced them to stay away from their homeland for so long. She longed to see the castle, red banners fluttering in a strong breeze, high upon the battlements. Jerry had given her a detailed description when she had asked. Of all the brothers, he could remember it best. She could almost picture it.

"The little dots," she said, turning her attention back to the page. "How can Father and Gareth and David be on this map? What -?" She cut off as her face cleared. "Ohhh," she said, understanding dawning. "Is this book fairy-made?"

Ella smiled and nodded. "It was a gift to me from Mandy. It's absolutely marvelous. You never know what the next turn of a page will bring. Sometimes it even seems to know what you need to see." Nora's eyes widened, and she fingered the bottom of the first page, looking at Ella with a questioning glance. Ella nodded again encouragingly.

Nora turned the page.

The left-hand side was blank, but the right-hand page had a large illustration. It looked beautifully and painstakingly drawn, awash with color. There was a room of some kind, maybe a drawing room, and a young woman was sitting in a chair with a lot of people around her. It was night - the light from the fire cast long shadows about the room. The young woman's hair was dark, long, and straight. She looked dirty. Soot was smudged on her face and over her dress. Kneeling in front of her was a young man - freckled, with curly hair. In his hand was a sparkling glass shoe. He appeared to be easing it onto her foot. The emotions of the people in the picture were right there: the girl's love for the boy plain to see (but mixed with something odd. . . fear?), and the boy's blazing determination and fierce love for the girl written all over his features. Nora stared at the picture, at the girl. . . her eyes were greener than grass, shiny from withheld tears.

She gasped. "Is that. . . is that _you_?" She turned to look at her mother.

Ella was gazing at the picture dreamily, her smile soft. She closed her eyes for a second, gently sighing. She opened them, running her fingers over the picture. "Yes. This is your father and I. The book has never shown me this picture before." Unexpectedly, she laughed. "Just look at him. He's barely aged a day since then."

Nora looked again at the picture. It was true, but the statement really applied to both of them, not just Char. Her mother and father had aged well from the date of the scene with the glass slipper. Ella had a few laugh lines around her eyes (and a few worry lines around her mouth), and maybe a bit of gray touched Char's hair at the temples, but beyond that, they were much the same.

"Good genes," Nora said. Ella laughed.

Nora continued, "Tell me, what was happening in this scene?" The illustration plainly showed that there was a lot going on under the surface. There were tensions and secrets hidden there that made Nora curious.

"Maybe the book will tell you. Turn the page and find out."

Nora turned the page, hoping that the illustration would hold for awhile. She wanted to look at it again, later.

On the next page was, indeed, a story. Eagerly, she started reading. It started out with a fairy bestowing an odd gift on a baby girl. It quickly became clear that the "gift" was more like a curse. As Nora became immersed in the tale, she was barely aware of Ella carefully getting up and leaving her alone with the magic book.

She read and read and read. It was a remarkable story; a love story.

She fell in love with it before she understood what it really was: her mother's tale.

When she finished, she sat for a minute, savoring the ending. The illustration before the story made sense, now. She rifled back through the pages, searching for it. She hoped it wasn't gone.

There.

She traced her fingers over the two figures. Their inevitable happy ending was coming. The curse would be broken; they would get married, have children. Life had not been easy for them, but they were together. They had each other. Only after they had struggled could they truly appreciate it.

Would she get such an ending?

She sighed, looking up towards the others, who were sitting at the roots of some trees some distance away. Ella was looking at her. She caught Nora's eye and smiled. Nora smiled back, until her mother turned away again, back to whatever she had been doing.

Nora returned to the book. She flipped the page, expecting to see her mother's tale again, but it was gone. In its place was a different story. It was about a toy tin soldier who fell in love with a paper doll dancer. It was a short read, and by the end Nora found herself sniffling. The tin soldier had gone on a long journey, but had ended up back where he started, with the paper dancer - only to be thrown into the stove. He had started to melt when a gust of wind blew the dancer into the stove, too. She went up in a blaze of flame, but he had melted down so much that the next morning, all the maid found was a little tin heart.

Still sniffling, Nora again turned the page.

She froze. Spread across two whole pages was another illustration of a room. It was shadowy, but looked more formal than the room in the other picture of her mother and father. There were stately tapestries hanging from the walls, with important-looking symbols stamped across them. Two figures became immediately distinct: a tall woman with a flowing fall of white-blond hair, and a young man with a mop of black hair that hung in his eyes. The woman was standing before the young man, drawn up to her full height. The young man was held by what looked like two burly guards on either side of him. They were supporting his weight, as it looked like he was about to faint.

_Raven._

* * *

"Are you _sure_?" Nora asked anxiously.

Jerry rolled his eyes. "Nora, please. Father grew up in the castle. He spent almost his _entire life_ there. He would know every room, inside out."

Each family member had studied the illustration in the magic book depicting Raven and Cassandra. Only Char had recognized the room in which they were situated. He had immediately pointed out the red tapestry hung on the wall behind the figures, bearing what he identified as the Kyrrian crest. It was partially obscured by a hulking guard, but he would have known the insignia anywhere.

"Ella might remember it, but I doubt any of the boys would. I'm the one who spent the most time there. This is a private meeting room. On the opposite wall of the one pictured is a large fireplace. In the back of the room is the meeting table, and towards the front are some armchairs. The walls are covered in tapestries," Char said, pointing to the red one in particular.

Everyone was very quiet.

"How recent do you think the illustration is?" Ella finally asked.

"It has to be recent. Raven had a scratch on his cheek the last time I saw him. Look, it's still here in the picture." Nora held up the book so the others could see. Sure enough, almost barely noticeable unless you were looking for it, there was a tiny line depicted on Raven's left cheek.

Henry was practically bursting out of his seat. "Then what are we waiting for? We have to get back to Frell! This could be our only chance to get to Cassandra. When else will we ever know exactly where she is?"

"You know very well that it's impossible right now. Even with the Seliran troops, we'll be taking a huge risk - walking straight into the mouse trap, if you will," Jerry said, his face stony and serious. "We must wait."

Nora looked panicked. "We can't. Who knows what's happened to Raven - I can't delay anymore. His life might depend on it."

Her use of the singular made Jerry's head snap up to stare at her. "What are you saying?"

Nora squared her shoulders. "I'll go. I'll go alone. No one will recognize me, or realize who I am. I'm barely a memory to them. It's the safest for me."

"Nora, no - !"

"You can't, it's too dangerous - "

"That's out of the question!"

Everyone talked at once after her firm statement. In the jumble of voices, Nora sat silently, quiet and resolute. One voice was talking over the rest, struggling to be heard. One by one, everyone went quiet again as David's voice made itself clear.

"Stop, stop!" He was standing, and the look on his face made him Nora's twin. "She's right."

Stunned silence met his words. No one spoke for a minute.

"Every one of our faces is recognizable. Every one of us was, in some form, in the public eye - except for Nora. She was taken long before anyone but her family had her face stamped in their minds. Out of all us, she could slip past the border. She could travel unknown, undetected."

Char's voice was tired when he spoke, weary with the weight of years of exile. "She's so young, and we've only just got her back. The road is so dangerous - how could we willingly let her go?"

Nora looked him straight in the eye. "Father, you have to. You have to, because if I don't do this, I will never forgive myself." Her eyes filled up as she looked at him. "Please, Father. Raven is. . . he's. . . " She drew in a shaky breath. "I love him, Father. I have to try to save him. Waiting is not in his favor."

Father and daughter stared at each other. Char's eyes grew moist, too, before long. He held out his arms to Nora.

She rushed to hug her father. Their heads bowed together, light curls juxtaposed with dark waves. When Char released her, his eyes were dry.

"Now then," he said briskly. "It's all very well to get to Frell and into the castle. What will you do once you're there?"

"She'll try to locate Raven - where they may be keeping him," Ella said. Nora moved to sit beside her, and they gripped hands. "She'll be as clever as I know she can be. Once she discerns where he is, or where he's being held, she can watch the movements of the guards and wait for us to arrive with the troops."

"A little spy," Gareth said, his eyes twinkling. "She can do it."

Jerry frowned. "There are too many ways that something could go wrong. What if Cassandra sees her, for instance? What if someone looks at her face too closely? She resembles Mother greatly enough that someone may draw a connection."

David smiled. "Nora is good at being quiet and unseen. Remember the ambush? We all but forgot that she was there."

"We were pretty well distracted," Jerry said, unconvinced.

"I know she can do it. After all, she survived for so long, practically on her own," Gareth said.

Char said nothing, only turned his head to look at her, nodding at her slightly. He had already told her, in so little words, that he trusted her. He would let her go.

"She can take the magic book with her, so we can send her word," Mandy said. She scowled at Nora, adding, "Small magic. And don't you forget it." In response, Nora solemnly crossed her heart. Mandy's mouth twitched, but she managed to retain her grumpy expression.

Ella finalized the conversation, sighing. "I suppose this is the best we can do. Is it so wrong to admit that this entire situation terrifies me?"

Nora turned to look at her worriedly. "You do understand, though, why I must go?"

Ella smiled. "Better than you think." Her eye caught Char's for a second. Nora saw the fleeting glance, fully understanding that, in their hearts, her parents understood best of all.

"I'll go with her, at least until a few miles before the border," David said. Nora smiled at him gratefully.

A great weight seemed to lift from her shoulders. She was finally going. Action was always better than inaction.

_Hold on, Raven. I'm coming. _

They would be reunited, even if it was the last thing she did.

* * *

_**Just for clarification, the story Nora reads in the magic book is not Ella Enchanted, per se. It is a much shorter version, and it probably reads more like an old fairy tale, at least in style and language. I don't want you to think she read an entire book in less than 30 minutes!**_

_**Also, I know many of you are growing impatient for Raven, but we're getting to him, I swear! I'm trying to build up things sufficiently, because if it's one thing I hate, it's a rushed ending.  
**_

_**We're down to the last few chapters - five at the very most (which means that it will inevitably be less, unless I am especially long-winded, which I very much doubt) and maybe an epilogue. If I write faster, this may be finished during August! I can't promise anything, of course, as life keeps getting in the way of my writing, but I've got my fingers crossed.**_


	23. To Kyrria

_**I hope you all expect ridiculously long chapters from me by now... right? :)**_

* * *

**23 - TO KYRRIA**

The parting was bittersweet. Nora was becoming strangely accustomed to the feeling.

Sweet, because she was finally on her way to Raven. Ever since he had disappeared from the mountain, she had felt a painful tug at her heart, a pull that wouldn't go away. There was only one cure: to find him and be with him again.

Bitter, because she was leaving her family behind. They had only just discovered each other, and tenuous new bonds had been formed. She had just been settling into her place as daughter, sister, goddaughter, but now she was risking all of that.

"We'll meet again soon," Ella had said, hugging Nora close. Nora had shut her eyes tight, wanting to believe it with all of her heart. As she and David had walked away on the winding forest path, she had turned back many times to look at her family. Each time, they appeared smaller and smaller, until finally they were lost in the trees.

She would see them once more. She would return to her place with them again and again, for as time passed there would be many more partings like this one in her life, especially when she traveled. . . or got married. (A faint blush touched her cheeks when she thought of marriage. If she married anyone, it would be _him_.) She looked ahead to that future, but couldn't quite see it clearly. It was indistinct and blurry, probably because at the moment everything was hanging on so much uncertainty. She decided to stick to the present, reminding herself that this first separation would be the hardest.

She drew comfort from David walking steadily at her side, leading the old mare, Sally.

Jerry had lent Nora the use of his mount wordlessly, only speaking to roughly ask her if she could ride. She could, well enough, but she had merely nodded. He gave her the reins, squeezing her shoulder for a second before retreating. He still didn't approve of the plan, of her going off alone. Giving her his horse meant a lot, coming from him.

David didn't speak as they walked, but he smiled at her, a reassuring quirk of his mouth. He would lead her on the quickest path to the Kyrrian border. After that, she would be on her own.

They didn't bother to make a fire that night, as it was unseasonably warm. They ate cold sandwiches that Mandy had sent along, and then folded themselves up in their cloaks on the leafy ground, listening to the birds calling goodnight to each other as they drifted off to sleep. Next morning, they were off before dawn, David mounting behind Nora so she could get used to riding again - it had been a long time since she had been on a horse, and she had to arrange her skirt in an awkward way that she needed to adjust to. Occasionally he would give her tips or adjust her form. He made her practice cantering and holding herself in the saddle the correct way. Neither of them said it, but there was a chance that she could run into danger, and she needed to have a method of escaping. She felt braver with David guiding her, readying her. She was grateful for his help.

As promised, she had been vouchsafed the magic book for her journey. It was heavy in Nora's satchel, but its weight was comforting. It was a link to what she left behind.

They made excellent progress riding, and only a few hours later, it was time.

They approached the bank of a narrow river which lazily cut through a grove of weeping willows. They slowed to a halt, both hesitating in the face of the moment they knew was upon them.

This was the true parting. Nora would cross that river alone, following it northeast another half league before reaching the Kyrrian border. From there, it was only five or six leagues to the capitol of Frell.

They both dismounted carefully. David turned, looking down at her with worry. "Remember what I said about the reins. Don't be so rough with them - you need a firm hand, but gentleness is key. And try to stay out of sight. It will be easier if you don't run into anyone who might ask questions. This close to Kyrria, anyone might be on the road. In fact, it's best to stay off it. But don't take Sally through any rocky terrain - "

"David." Nora cut in, rolling her eyes slightly.

"Ah, I'm sorry. I know you can do this, Nora, it's just that you're so small, and you're my little sister - "

"I know." She paused, breathing in deeply. "Thank you. For everything."

He smiled at her, ruffled her hair in what was becoming his customary way, and then gave her a bear hug. "We'll see you again soon. I promise."

She let her brother hug her for a second, drawing strength from it, and then pulled away. She quickly mounted Sally so as not to prolong the separation. She felt shaky, scared, but ready. She turned, watching him lightly lope back over the hill, in the direction they had come. He looked back once and waved, and she blew him a kiss. Then he was gone.

* * *

Nora lay in the tall grass, watching a sky full of clouds. They drifted past lazily, reminding her of puffy, fleecy sheep. Drowsily, she blinked slowly, drinking in the beautiful warm sunshine. She felt a slight tug on her hand. She turned her head to the side to look. Raven was lying next to her, propped on his side with an elbow. Her hand was captured in his. He tugged on it again, a smile teasing his lips. Obediently, she inched herself closer to him. He frowned; it wasn't close enough. Impatient, he pulled her as far as he wanted - right into his arms. She gasped slightly at his forwardness, but then relaxed. He was holding her like she was as precious as quicksilver. He bent his head, brushing her lips with a chaste kiss -

And then she woke up.

She could have wept, the dream was so lovely and real. The contrast between it and the true situation was too depressing. She rolled over a bit, trying to get comfortable on the bed of dead leaves she had chosen for her night's repose. Sally wasn't far away; the horse had taken up the loyal behavior of a dog: following her around, nosing her in the back for a pat on the head, and sleeping close beside her during the night.

They had traveled far without any incident, which was surprising. She supposed it could be attributed to how careful she was being, and how far they stayed off the beaten path. True, the journey was probably taking longer because of this, but the magic book always helped her stay on track. The map on the front page was constantly changing, showing her smaller-scaled details of the terrain or larger scopes of the land, as needed. Sometimes it even showed her pictures of her family, traveling to meet the Selirans. Usually it liked to depict humorous incidents for her, like the illustration of Henry's well-intentioned attempt to cook the evening meal. It looked similar to a gooey paste, and Mandy's strained expression while eating it was something that she laughed about for days afterward. She only had to think about it, and immediately she would have to suppress the inevitable giggle that would follow.

Really, it was almost like the book was trying its best to cheer her and urge her onward. She started thinking of the tome in fond terms, almost akin to an affection for a friend.

She had crossed the border into Kyrria rather anticlimactically. In fact, she had not even known that she was in Kyrria until she took a water break and consulted the magic book. Somehow she had been expecting border patrols, or some kind of station of guards. Had she simply missed them? After all, they couldn't catch _everyone_ who slipped in. A few people were bound to get through without their notice. With her circuitous route through the woods, she suspected that she probably was one of them. _All the better_, she thought. _The less I am seen, the easier it will be._

The seemingly lax nature of the country's security seemed a bit telling, however. If Kyrria were ruled under a surer, firmer hand, then certainly she would have seen some kind of soldier by now. Only inhabitant-less, barren lands, such as Norwood, were without security. _Then again, Norwood has no King_, she amended. It did not escape her that the comparison was laughable, that Kyrria had descended so low as to be almost like an ungoverned wild land.

She had noticed many more things as she traveled further into Kyrria. She had come across a herd of half-starved cows, mooing plaintively. They did not belong in the forest. She thought that they must have been set loose by their master, but why? _Maybe the farmer could not afford to keep them_, she mused_. _The poor things were nosing the ground, searching for any spare bit of grass. "Shoo," Nora had said, herding one out of her way so she could pass. "You belong in a field; if only you had sense enough to find one! Shoo!"

Stranger still were the abandoned hamlets that she had encountered. Each had dirt paths leading to the main road, in obvious disuse. Each were in a cleared area of the forest, with stumps marking where all of the trees had been felled to build the little wooden cottages. All were oddly empty, looking lonely and haunted in the shade of the forest.

"Where did they all go?" Nora murmured, but she could not make sense of it. She had had no time to stop and investigate, either, merely pushing on, growing more uneasy by the second.

Back in the present, she turned restlessly, trying to let sleep claim her; these thoughts and wondering about Raven kept her brain running endlessly.

She had consulted the magic book before turning in, and to her surprise, discovered that they had made better time than she thought. Frell was no more than two days' journey. Her stomach clenched nervously, partially in anticipation, partially in fear. Would she be able to carry out the plan? More than this, Raven was so _near_. To see him again. . .

She tried to focus on the dream she had just been blessed with, hoping that she could pick up where she left off when she fell asleep again. Even if it was only in a dream, kissing Raven was the best remedy for her troubled mind.

* * *

Frell had probably once been a lovely city, but now it just looked sad. . . even neglected.

She had finally arrived. The few people she had eventually passed on the way had not given her a second glance. Without notice and without consequence, she arrived in the city of her birth.

This was not the proud capitol that her brother had described. The streets were filthy with waste, the shops and dwellings encumbered by want.

Everyone she looked at appeared ragged, with that shine about the eyes that is a tell-tale sign of hunger. The higher class were ridiculously noticeable, in glaring opposition to the rest of the population. They stood out like sore thumbs, shining with good health and prosperity, with their impeccable clothing and their round, full stomachs. The lower classes gave them wide berths and shifty glances, and this behavior wasn't without merit. There was something more, something. . . off. . . about the nobles.

As she clandestinely observed one, she realized what it was.

He was a finely dressed man, wearing a dandy hat with an ostrich plume. He was being tailed by a wretched-looking little serf wearing a stained tunic and an emaciated expression. It was painfully obvious who was superior and who was inferior. The short little man struggled to keep up with the well-to-do one, as the nobleman was much taller and took long, sweeping strides. He also seemed to be in a bit of a hurry, and not in much of a mood for humoring peasants. Nora watched their interaction as they walked past her. No one else paid them any attention.

"Sir, if you please . . . hear me out, I beg of you. . . " The peasant was huffing with the effort of chasing his master.

"Not now, Elroy, I haven't got time," the nobleman answered. His voice was odd, almost robotic. Nora thought he must've been some obscure Lord.

"But, sir, I cannot possibly pay the tithe. We barely got a crop in - most of it wasn't fit to be sold! We didn't earn enough. If we give you what you ask, we'll starve before winter's out!"

"The king demands that all tithes be paid in full. Will you question his rule?" The nobleman's voice was hard as steel, and just as unforgiving. What was more noticeable, though, was the monotone way in which he was speaking. There was no fire, no passion behind what he was saying, like he was merely a puppet repeating words.

The poor peasant man looked ready to start weeping. "S-sir? Have you no pity for our plight? We u-used to be able to c-come to you with our problems, once upon a time, and you would always try to find a fair solution. When you were loyal to King Ch -"

"Enough. I have no time for your blubbering. I will expect payment on the same date as always. Now, I suggest that you get back to your farm and attend to my land, unless you would like to spend the day in the stocks?"

The peasant did not say anything more, just stood still in the street where he was, silently staring at the back of his Lord's perfectly tailored doublet, the jaunty feather in his hat quivering as the man stomped away. Then, slowly shaking his head, the peasant retreated back whence he had come, his shoulders slumped in defeat. As he walked away, Nora noticed a large, gaping hole in the sole of his boot. She could see his entire heel when he lifted his foot. Somehow, this made her even angrier about the situation.

Nora had an advantage over the poor peasants. Knowing the full story as she did, she could detect the glassy, glazed aspect in the eyes of the higher ranked, and could identify it for what it was: a spell, a curse.

As she made her way further through the city to the castle, her heart wept for her homeland.

* * *

Nora stared up at the castle. From her distance, it looked sprawling and grand. It did not seem to belong in Frell, especially as the city was now. It was a shining white palace in a sea of gray: gray peasants, gray streets, gray filth. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine the city as it must have been when her father ruled. She imagined her brothers riding out through those tall gates on white horses, in armor and the Kyrrian insignia, soldiers of peace - as it should have been. She saw the cobblestone streets shining, the buildings repaired, the people wearing bright colors again. _Everyone will have proper shoes_, she thought. New red banners would hang throughout the square when the true sons of Kyrria returned. _Plus one daughter._

When she opened her eyes, all she saw was the beautiful palace, the decrepit city, and the wide gates, open to let through whomever had business there, flanked by stone-faced guards.

She shifted uneasily from foot to foot, contemplating what to do. She stood at the corner of a tailor's shop, holding the reins in her left hand. Sally quietly munched on a stray bit of straw behind her. She had just made up her mind to mount and ride through like she had done it hundreds of times, and hope that no one questioned her or noticed, when she was pulled back from her position and whirled into a shadowy alley by a strong hand. Alarmed, she let out a squeak, but otherwise did not say a word. Her pulse raced through her chest as her eyes adjusted to the dark and she tried to make out who had grabbed her.

Closely cropped brown hair, sharp features. "Phillip!" she whispered loudly. Somehow whispering seemed appropriate. She put her hand over her heart, trying to calm herself.

"Did I frighten you?" he whispered back, his voice amused. "Why are we whispering?"

She glared at him, hitting his arm a little harder than necessary as part of her response. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"Good to see you, too," he retorted. When Nora only raised one eyebrow impatiently, he sighed and continued. "Dora turned out to be a bust. It wasn't only the king who wouldn't see us - absolutely _no one_ wanted to talk to us. We couldn't make it past the castle gates. The rest of them went back to our village with their tails between their legs, but Thomas and Berta and I decided to strike out. There's nothing for us back home."

"What about your family?"

"My father has too many mouths to feed as it is; I've got seven sisters. I figure it must have been a relief when I left. Anyway, maybe I can try my luck where the economy is better, maybe send some money back home."

Nora stared at him as if he had suddenly sprouted feelers. "Um, Phillip? Do you realize where you are? Kyrria is in a worse state than Haddora. . . how will you fare better here?"

"We're not _staying_. Merely passing through. Want to see a bit of the world, don't I? Besides, Berta has a cousin who lives in Frell. Those are good enough excuses for me. And anyway," he added, narrowing his eyes at her in his shrewd way, "I should really be the one doing the interrogating. Why are _you_ here? And where's Raven? You're not alone, are you?"

"Yes, I am alone, but it's a terribly long story. . . " Nora cast her troubled look at the pavement.

Phillip's look softened marginally, but his voice took on a tinge of jealousy. "Ah, I see. Lover's quarrel?"

In an instant, Nora's face swung from depressed to outraged. "What? How dare you! Ugh, if I wasn't so glad to see a familiar face, I'd slap you!" She turned her back on him, balling up her fists and breathing heavily.

Shocked by her reaction, he changed his tune very quickly. "Nora? Nora, I'm sorry. Really, I'm very sorry. I just assumed. . . the last time I saw you two, you were miserable and he was acting like a love-sick swain. It was kind of. . . irritating, but really, I've got to stop jumping to conclusions -"

Nora lifted one hand in the air silently. Phillip stopped talking. "It's fine, Phillip. You don't understand - how could you? There's a lot you don't know. The main thing is this: Raven is in Frell, he's in danger, and I've come here to save him."

Phillip pulled up short, incredulity written on his features. "Why - I can't - What the hell have you been doing since you left Windmere?" he sputtered.

Nora sighed. "Be quiet and I'll tell you."

* * *

"You're not doing this alone," Phillip said. "I won't let you." He had listened attentively to her abbreviated story of the events leading up to her entrance into Frell, and she could already tell that he was thinking of ways to assist her.

"No, Phillip, don't - "

"I won't be dissuaded. You and Raven are my good friends, and I'm going to help you, whether you like it or not. Besides, how are you going to find out where they're keeping him? How are you going to sneak around the castle?"

"I guess I haven't quite gotten that far," Nora said sheepishly. Indeed, she had hardly planned out what she would do, past getting to Frell.

"Right then. Two heads are better than one. Yes?" He smirked at her, knowing that he had won the argument.

"Fine," she said, a bit more snappishly than she intended. She backpedaled, wanting to make sure he knew how relieved she was to not be entirely alone, but also stressing that he did not have to put himself needlessly in danger.

"Stop worrying. You're much too conscientious," he said. "You should be more like me - don't think, just _do._" He made a comically exaggerated movement with his hand, as if indicating how swift her action should be.

She was obviously not in a laughing mood, as she only frowned up at him in reply.

"I'm sorry, I forgot. Asking you not to think is like asking a gnome not to dig. Forgive me, Mistress Brainiac." He bowed dramatically, and he finally got the response he was looking for: Nora laughed. She stopped herself quickly though: Phillip's brand of teasing reminded her painfully of Raven. Phillip seemed to guess her thoughts, for he straightened up, becoming serious.

"Come on, then. We've got a castle to infiltrate and Raven to track down - time is of the essence!"

* * *

"Hold still, dear, I've just got to tuck in one more seam." Berta squinted at the needle and thread she was using to sew Nora into a brown dress, which greatly resembled a potato sack.

"Berta, really, I don't know why you're bothering with that tailoring. The point is to look ragged, right?"

"I won't have you walking through the city - the castle! - with a gigantic hole under your armpit, all the same. Now _hold still._"

Once Nora was properly sewed up, she and Phillip stood side-by-side for inspection.

"Hmmm," Thomas said, stroking his chin. "There's something missing. . ."

"Ah! I've just the thing!" Berta scurried over to the fireplace, coating her hands with ashes from the hearth. She immediately smudged Nora and Phillip's hands and faces with the sooty grime, then stepped back to admire her effort.

"Perfect! You two look like right little beggars. What do you think, Tom?"

"No one will suspect a thing. You look more like a pair now that you're similarly dressed and dirtied. The brother and sister story might just work."

Nora walked over to the looking-glass that was hanging on a far wall in the sitting room. They were lucky that Berta's cousin was off at market day, otherwise they never would have been able to use her house for their scheming. Belinda was extremely nosy and pushy, and did not care for Phillip. It was good fortune that she was occupied, and that she had excused her cousin and her husband from going to market with her. Berta and Thomas were glad of it, too, and had been more than willing to lend a hand when Phillip expediently explained the rudiments of Raven's situation to them.

Nora stared at her reflection. It was very believable. She looked like a street urchin, or a very poor peasant's daughter. One thing was off, though: her eyes. Her eyes would surely give them away, if nothing else did. She would have to think of something to conceal their strange color. . .

For the plan was this: Nora and Phillip, posing as the lowest of peasants, would go to the castle on invented business: to visit their brother in the debtor's prison.

Of course, they were not peasants, there was no brother, and the second that they had the chance, they would create some kind of diversion and sneak off to search the castle dungeons for Raven. It was the most obvious and logical place that he would be. If they found no trace of him, then they would move their search to the upper reaches of the castle.

Nora felt a little guilty. She was supposed to wait for her family to arrive with the Selirans before any kind of action was taken. . . but, she just. . . _couldn't_. It would be torture to sit in the city, knowing where Raven was and not _going_ to him, getting him out. . .

It had been too long. There wasn't enough time. What if Cassandra had taken him away again? What if he wasn't even in the castle? or in Frell? . . . or in Kyrria?

_No. No, no, no, no. _Nora's insides turned somersaults at this thought.

He was there, in the darkest, farthest reaches. In some ways, Cassandra was nothing if not predictable. He would be in the dungeon. He _had_ to still be there.

_But what if -_

She shook her head, arguing with herself. _No. He's there. I can feel it in my gut._

She glanced at her eyes again in the looking-glass, a contemplative expression creasing her brow. She forced her train of thought to move away from Raven, focusing on her reflection. _Will this count as small magic?_ _Surely not. . . it's only a color, after all. . ._

She decided. She stared at herself in the mirror, and absolutely no one noticed as she changed her eye shade from bluish violet to plain blue.

It wasn't a total change; she could feel the magic, layered like a thin veil. It was like a mask of sorts. She gave her reflection one last rueful smile in the mirror. _Small enough. Mandy would probably argue, but this definitely won't hurt anyone._

She turned back to her companions, who were talking together in low voices.

"I'm ready," she said.

* * *

"State your business," demanded one of the guards.

They had had no problem at the main gate. Just like all of the other people who were passing in and out, they were paid no attention. That was the first obstacle. After that, there were guards stationed at almost every major entrance and wing. Most of them they managed to bypass, but to get to the dungeons, there were a few that they were forced to confront.

"If you please, sir, we're going to visit our brother in the debtor's keep."

They both tried to look innocuous as the guard gave them a careless once-over. They must have succeeded, as they were waved onward without another word. Nora let out a long breath as they finally walked toward the entrance to the dungeons. Even the security in the castle was horrendous - more proof of the kingdom's bad management. _This is good_, she thought as they drew up to the last gate. "Here we go, the true test," she whispered. Phillip looked at her out of the corner of his eye, but remained uncharacteristically silent. The situation was pressing down on them; if they were somehow discovered as frauds, they very well could be tossed into a cell themselves. This in both of their minds, they approached the guards.

The same protocol was gone through - they were asked to state their business, and additionally, checked for weapons. Nora was about to breathe the deepest sigh of relief yet, when one of the guards surprised them with one last question.

"What is the name of the prisoner you wish to see?"

They both froze. They had not anticipated this, though they definitely should have. Nora wildly cast about for a name. Of course she had no idea who was _actually_ locked up in debtor's prison. She castigated herself soundly. _We should have prepared better! Now all is lost because of a stupid name!_

"John," Phillip blurted. Nora almost winced, but she managed to keep her face calm.

The guard looked surprised. _Oh no, oh no. . . _ Nora thought.

"Well enough. Follow me." They almost didn't follow him at first, they were so shocked. They shared a frenzied look behind his back as he retreated down a shadowy stairwell, then hurried after him. "I didn't know Johnny had any siblings," he called behind him.

"Oh. . . yes. Yes, I'm surprised he didn't mention. . . " Phillip trailed off vaguely.

Luckily, the guard didn't ask any more questions, only led them into a torch-lit room which branched off into many corridors - each leading to different wings of the dungeon. Only one archway had another flight of stairs descending. Another guard stood in front of it, which intrigued Nora, but she didn't get a chance to look further, as the guard leading them turned down a left-hand passage lit by more torches and dotted with small cells on either side. A few of them had occupants, but not all. At the tenth cell, he stopped. "Johnny-boy, visitors," he said briskly, then gave a little bow and went back the way he came. Nora glanced around quickly. No other guards. It was just as they thought: this wing was not well-watched, as the men thrown here simply could not pay their tithes or their taxes - they were not serious offenders and did not need much guarding.

Johnny was staring at them blearily, meanwhile. He looked like he had been napping, slouched in a corner with some straw. "Who in the -" he yawned widely, interrupting his sentence, "- blazes are you?" he asked sleepily.

"How are you, John? Long time no see," Phillip half-whispered cheerfully.

Silence from the other side of the iron bars. John was already snoring again.

Phillip turned to Nora. "Time for the fun," he whispered. He drew a small box from his pocket, extracting from it a piece of flint and tinder.

"All of these cells are empty," Nora whispered, motioning to the left. Phillip crouched, stealing some stray straw from John's cell while Nora took a tiny bottle from her own pocket. She uncorked it, and the unmistakable smell of kerosene wafted out strongly. She ripped a small piece of fabric from her potato sack dress, and then doused it with the bottle's contents. She handed it to Phillip. "We're arsonists," she quietly said, her voice tense. Phillip only grimaced at her.

"We do what we have to. At least Raven will get a laugh out of this, later," he whispered. He moved to an empty cell, placing the straw, tinder, and fuel-covered cloth on the ground through the bars, creating a good nest for a fire. He struck the flint to the closest bar, directing the resulting sparks to the tinder. The pile caught and immediately began to burn. The smoke curled up innocently, but it wouldn't for long. There was a wooden bench in the cell, as well as more straw nearby that would certainly catch. There was a small, barred window with a wooden casing, too.

As Phillip ran back to the antechamber, calling "Fire! Fire!" up to the guards, smoke was already pouring from the cell and into the corridor. His call was loud enough that other guards from different passages came running. The smoke was getting thicker, and the guards were shouting at each other.

"Evacuate the prisoners!"

"The well, the well! Get buckets of water!"

"We need more hands! Call the others!"

In the tumult, Nora and Phillip slipped from the antechamber into the narrow passage with the stairs, quietly descending into the farther reaches of the dungeon.

* * *

It was a long way down. The cold stone walls dripped with wetness, and sometimes a greenish slime was present. Nora tried not to touch the stone, but it was very dark, and sometimes the torches were so far apart that they needed to feel along to keep their bearings. Sometimes a landing interrupted the winding stairs, but they never explored the passages beyond. The antechambers that opened up from these landings held strange-looking tools and instruments that were vaguely menacing - devices for torture. Nora shuddered every time she happened to glance at one gleaming evilly in the flickering torchlight.

For some distance the smoke from the fire followed them. Nora worried that what they had started had gotten out of control, but Phillip shushed her. "Did you see all of those guards? If they're not idiots, they'll get it in hand. What you _should_ be worrying about is how much time it will buy us."

Only twice, footsteps on the stairwell came pounding up to meet them. In these instances, they were forced to run back up a flight or two as quietly as possible to dive into a chamber off one of the landings, their backs against the wall, crouching in the dark shadows. When the steps had loudly gone past, they would peek out in time to see a guard hustling up the stairs. "This can't be the only way up," Phillip said. "We'd have seen more people, otherwise."

"Hmmm," Nora said. She wasn't really listening - the stairwell was becoming less steep very quickly.

Eventually, a welcome sight met their eyes. Nora pointed. "Look! A door!"

They had come to the bottom at last. In front of them was a door set in an archway, sturdy and wooden. Phillip pushed on it, and it swung open heavily.

They stared. It opened into a room, lit not by torches, but by a candelabra sitting in a small niche in the wall. The light flickered from the air stirred by the door, onto dripping walls that did not contain another door.

Dead end.

"Oh, great," Phillip said morosely. "This is just splendid. Now we have to go _all the way back up_? I thought for sure - the stairwell seems so foreboding, it would make _perfect_ sense to have it end in a secret block of cells, but _no_, why would anyone do _anything_ that made sense anymore -"

"Phillip, shut up and let me think!" Nora was growing more agitated by the second, and Phillip's blathering was cutting into her thought process.

She didn't understand it. Why have a stairwell that led to nothing? Yes, it branched off a few times, but the obvious intent of it was to lead _here_, to this room -

"That's it," she whispered. Phillip didn't hear her, as he was still muttering to himself. She could catch vague snatches of curse words and other such epithets. She ignored him, instead rushing past him into the room, practically flinging herself at a green slime-covered wall, pushing at it and searching with her hands.

Phillip stopped his cursing. "What are you doing?"

"Help me!" she said, frantically moving her hands over the wall. "The stairwell doesn't lead to nowhere - there's some kind of secret door or opening, here. Help me find it!"

Phillip didn't move. "How could you know that?"

"_Think _ about it for a minute. You said it yourself: why would such a long stairwell merely lead to a tiny chamber in the dark? - Because it doesn't!"

At this, Phillip hurried further into the room. "Here, let me bring the light over. It will go faster if we can actually see what we're doing." He went to the niche tucked into the wall, grabbing the base of the candelabra and removing the light from its home on the little ledge.

The second it was in his hand, a grinding sound burst forth from the opposite corner of the room, making them both jump half out of their skins. Part of the wall was moving, raising up into some secret pocket in the ceiling. A muffled clanking accompanied it, sounding much like chains being yanked up by pulleys. Eventually, all of the noises ceased. What was once a solid wall now had a door-sized chunk missing. Beyond, they could see nothing but darkness.

Silently, Nora strode over to the doorway, peering through. A long way off, so far that it only looked like a point of light, a torch burned.

Phillip came to stand behind her, looking through over her head. He carried the candelabra with him. "Wow. Your intuition is spot-on."

Nora's heart was pounding out a frantic rhythm. She felt like her entire body was pulsing with it. "This was almost too easy," she whispered.

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Come on." Before he could put a foot forward, Nora raised her eyebrows at the candelabra. He didn't have to guess at her question. "Are you kidding? This is coming with us. What if I put it back and the door closes? Besides, I could cut through that darkness with a knife."

He edged around her into the doorway, leading the way into the corridor. The light bobbed and reflected on shiny, wet stone walls, very close and narrow.

Nora frowned. She was not having any of that. She hurried through the door, pushing past Phillip, her feet eager to lead the way to Raven.

* * *

_**I am eternally grateful to you all who have stuck with me this far. To those who have recently joined in, I know how daunting reading this must seem at the beginning (80,000 + words?), so thank you for reading and investing your time in my story.  
**_


	24. The Rescue

**24 - THE RESCUE**

In his tiny cell in the dark, Raven lay huddled in a ball on the floor, listlessly lost in a fog while the steady noise of the moisture dripping from the walls kept up its incessant beat. Every so often, his coughing would interrupt the otherwise silent dungeon. He was miserable; his head ached, his throat was on fire, and to top it all off, there was never anything to eat but a crust of damp bread and some stale water. It was always dark and cold, but recently a chilly draft had blown out the torch nearest to his cell. He soon lost track of day and night and time, though it inevitably ticked by. He began to feel as if the outside world had disappeared, and that the sun was a fantasy from a wonderful dream he had had long ago.

A silent, nondescript guard brought him his food and water each day. Just once, he had tried to croak out a plea for a blanket, or maybe some medicine, but the guard had not even paused to answer, let alone hear him. Like clockwork, the guard would appear once a day (this was how Raven knew for sure that the world had not gone away) to shove a tray under the iron bars of Raven's cell. The guard was swift and moved silently. One second, there would be the now-familiar scraping of the tray sliding on stone, the next, Raven would turn to catch a boot disappearing from view, or a shadow merging into the darkness of the corridor.

He had not had another visit from Algernon (Raven refused to refer to him as _King_) or Cassandra. They had each wheedled and tortured him in turn, and then left him to rot in misery and dampness.

Another cough sputtered from his chest, and he bent further inwards in his position on the floor, so that his knees were practically touching his head. The hacking seared his throat and scratched his lungs. Water would have been expedient at such a time, but there was none left in the wooden flagon sitting neatly on the tray by his cell door, waiting to be picked up by the guard. He had drained its entire contents the second the guard had left it for him a few hours previously. He longed for just one more sip of it to soothe his burning throat. . . He shivered, his teeth chattering. It was no good to wish and want. He would not get a thing.

There was another thing he wished for and wanted, something much better than a stupid gulp of water, but he dared not think her name.

As time passed, he knew subconsciously that he was getting worse, but he was slowly losing himself in a haze of fever.

Time was an alien to him, now. It did not exist as he lay in his cell, sweating one minute, shivering violently the next, dreaming while awake. He saw green meadows, cool forests, and the sun, the blazing, warm sun. . . There was laughter, and long, dark hair. . . yet all the while he lay the in dark, in the cold and the wet, burning with fever.

This is why, when he saw the light bobbing toward him from the left corridor, he didn't fully comprehend.

In a daze, he watched as it grew brighter and brighter. To him, it moved in slow-motion. Soon it was close enough to blind him. His head swam as he turned his face, shielding his eyes. So much light. Light everywhere. Voices were speaking, too, but he couldn't make out the words.

There was something about the tone and timbre of one of the voices that made him face the light again, squinting his eyes. The scene in front of him was confusing at first, but through his fog and his fever he saw a young man crouching by the bars of his cell, holding that brilliant light aloft. Raven struggled to concentrate, his brow creased. No, this was not the source of the voice that had perked up his ears. Someone else was kneeling beside the young man, though, reaching through the bars toward him, and Raven blinked faintly in that direction.

He knew her. Oh, _he knew her_. He struggled to keep looking at her as she went in and out of focus. She was crying; her face was shiny in the candlelight. She was talking to him, and reaching for him.

He struggled to get up, but couldn't. Too weak. The room started going completely dark; he was losing consciousness. The slow-motion world swam in front of his eyes, the figures blurring and darkening. The last thing Raven saw, before he succumbed to blackness, was a pair of vivid violet eyes.

* * *

"Raven, Raven!" Nora sobbed, straining her arm to reach him through the bars of the cell, desperate but unable to close the last few feet.

"He's sick, Nora, he's really sick," Phillip said worriedly, gently trying to disentangle her from the cell door. "We have to get him out of there."

Nora let her straining arms go limp, allowing Phillip to pull her up. Raven lay where he was, deeply unconscious. His skin looked grayish and pale, but his cheeks were vividly rosy and flushed. A film of sweat dampened his brow and his heavy mop of hair. She wanted to press a cool cloth to his forehead, to wrap him in blankets and take care of him. The sturdy iron bars of the cell door, the only thing between them now, seemed to mock her.

Phillip was talking to himself out loud, searching the corridor near the cell for some kind of set of keys or a tool that could help them. Nora leaned against the door unhelpfully, her emotions getting the best of her. She sagged, a sudden exhaustion overtaking her body. Now Phillip was at her side, examining the lock on the door, testing the strength of the iron, searching for weak spots where it met the stone wall. Raven lay in a ball in his cell, his breathing shallow. Nora watched him, feeling despair creeping over her like a vine that grows to twist and twine around its victim, squeezing the life out of it.

Phillip was talking to her again, but she wasn't listening. Her eyes never left Raven's face, and her hands clutched at the cell door. Phillip grasped her shoulders so she would turn and look at him, but she resisted.

"No, no. . ." she said. Her chest constricted, and she let her emotions take over. She wasn't thinking when she felt the spot near her heart flutter and tingle. Her brain was fuzzy and all she could see was Raven staring at her, his eyes full of longing, reaching for her. . . and then fainting, succumbing to the fever.

It happened in a second. The iron cell door that Nora gripped for dear life was there one minute, gone the next. It vanished, like it had never been.

Phillip cried out in astonishment. Nora took a step back, her eyes wide and her hands held up like she was surrendering. It took her a few seconds to get a grip, and then she rushed at Raven.

Phillip was still staring suspiciously at the air where the door had been, like it might pop back into being at any minute. He felt around in the doorway with one hand, passing his fingers through the empty air experimentally, confusion dominating his features. Meanwhile, Nora was throwing her cloak on top of Raven, pulling him up and cradling his head in her lap, touching his face anxiously with delicate fingers.

"Nora. . . where did the door go?" Phillip asked faintly.

"I got rid of it. Phillip, help me wake him up!"

It took Phillip a second to register the first part of what she said. "You _got rid of it?_ What is that supposed to mean?"

"It _means_ that I can do magic," she said quickly. "I'm sorry, I left that part out of the story I told you. That's how I made the door disappear. It was an accident - I make things happen sometimes, when I'm afraid or anxious or mad." She wondered, additionally, if what she had done had been Big magic. So far, there had been no evidence to prove so. . .

Meanwhile, she was gently mopping Raven's face with the skirt of her dress, and she turned to Phillip anxiously. "Please, Phillip, we have to make him come around if we're going to get him out of here. He needs medicine."

Phillip stood very still another second longer, still staring at where the door had been. Then he made up his mind. He shook his head a little, hurrying to Nora's side.

Together, they got Raven sitting up, dragging him to be propped against the nearest wall, and Phillip grabbed the flagon of water sitting on the tray by the empty doorway. There was a tiny bit of liquid at the bottom, and he splashed it on Raven's face. Raven's eyelashes fluttered, and Nora called his name, stroking his brow and gently slapping his cheeks. Phillip rubbed his arms, using the friction to try to get them warm.

Raven's head twitched to the side a fraction. Then he shifted, moaning quietly. Phillip and Nora continued their ministrations, watching his face with concern. Finally, he opened his eyes. It took him a second to focus on Nora, but when he did, he smiled weakly, lifting his hand toward her face. Nora's eyes grew moist at this, and she quickly dropped a kiss on his cheek.

"What. . . that's all you've got?" was Raven's faint reply. A glimmer of a mischievous sparkle echoed in his eyes.

Nora hid her smile, shyly looking away. He was very ill, and Phillip was watching, but she decided she didn't care. She moved closer, pressing her lips carefully against his. His hands traveled to her face, drifting into her hair.

Phillip groaned, pointedly turning his gaze from them. "Come on, you two. Now is not exactly the best time to get all mushy."

Nora came up for air, her cheeks flaming red. Raven closed his eyes, a small smile still hovering on his lips.

"Great," Phillip said. "Now can we get out of here?" Nora glanced at him. He sounded annoyed, but his eyes betrayed him. He was covering up, pretending to be more irritated than he really was to hide his jealousy. She felt a little sorry for him. Brusquely, she got down to business, pulling on Raven's arm and draping it over her shoulder. Phillip quickly stepped in, hoisting Raven's other side. Together, they got him to his feet.

"How do you feel?" Nora asked, surveying him with keen eyes.

"Over the moon, now that you're here," he said, looking down at her.

She opened her mouth to reply, but Phillip did it for her. "All right, that's enough. Save the romance for later, will you? We've got a serious situation on our hands, here," he pleaded.

Raven gritted his teeth. "Right. I'm ready. Let's go."

The three of them stepped forward, exiting the prison cell. Raven had never been so glad to leave a place in his entire life. He was dizzy and weak, but he could walk well enough with the others' support. Together they made their way into the dark passage.

"Wait," Phillip said. He stopped their progress. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" said Nora.

They all grew very still, listening. No sounds echoed back to them but that of the ever-constant dripping.

"That's funny. . ." Phillip muttered to himself. "Thought I heard something. . ."

"Should we go back the way we came, or continue down this way?" Nora nodded at the hall that kept going past Raven's cell.

"Continue that way," Raven said, pointing in the same direction Nora had indicated. "The guard always goes that way when he leaves."

"Good enough," Phillip said, and they all shuffled along accordingly.

. . . Behind them, a few shadows detached themselves from the darkness. A couple of shapes moved forward silently, advancing in the wake of the three young people. Three pairs of eyes followed the trio, waiting for the perfect moment to ambush.

* * *

"There it is again," Phillip said, halting and forcing the others to stop. They had almost made it to the end of the passage. They were very near a burning torch, so they could not see far beyond the light it cast. The end of the corridor was hidden in dense black shadow.

"Phillip, what is it you think you're hearing?" Nora was anxious enough already without this distraction.

"Stop - _listen_."

They did. At first, there was nothing, and Nora sighed impatiently. Then - they all heard it.

Footsteps. And not just one set.

As they realized this in alarm, the steps grew quicker, getting closer. Whoever was behind them was now sprinting towards them.

"RUN!" Raven yelled.

The passage was too narrow; Raven was too weak. They did not get very far before their pursuers were right on top of them. They couldn't see; they had left the nearest light far behind. Someone grabbed Nora's arm, wrenching her away from the other two. She stumbled and fell to her knees. Without her supporting his right side, Raven found he could not stay standing. He crumpled, with Phillip still struggling to drag him along. Another person grabbed Phillip from behind, pinioning him with their arms so he couldn't move. Raven, left to himself, couldn't go any farther. He weakly fell against a wall, sliding down to the floor.

A light flared up in front of them. They squinted, unused to the brightness, but the person who held the lantern lifted it up, and they could clearly see his face.

Algernon.

He smiled slowly at them. "You idiotic _children_," he said pleasantly, which was totally at odds with the situation. "I say, did you really think it would escape our notice that _you_ started the fire? She saw you; she knows you're here. How could she not?" He then barked out an order to the men who were detaining Nora and Phillip. "Get them upstairs! Cassandra is waiting."

"Your Majesty, what about this one?" One of the men nodded in Raven's direction.

"Ah, yes. His presence is wanted, too. Give me the girl. You can drag him up."

Nora was roughly shoved towards Algernon, who grabbed her around the shoulders with one arm, holding a long dagger to her neck with the other.

"Don't try anything funny, princess," he said softly.

Phillip was struggling with the other guard, trying to escape his choke-hold. The guard got the best of Phillip, clocking him in the face. With a groan, Phillip clutched his eye. When he looked up again, Nora saw that a large bruise was forming around it. She wanted to say something, but didn't. She was all too aware of the blade of the knife hovering dangerously near the soft skin of her neck.

The second guard hoisted Raven up a bit savagely, taking no care for his condition. Soon they were all being jostled along the passage, and they finally saw what was at the end of it: a small door. They were hustled inside of it, and then there was nothing but a dank stairwell spiraling up in front of them. The air smelled foul. Nora thought she heard the skittering of rats.

Up they went, but it was too far and too much for Raven. Soon the guard was literally dragging him up the stairs, and when Nora could chance a quick glance at him, she was just in time to catch his eyes closing. He fainted again with a soft groan of pain. Her breath caught in her throat - she had to risk speaking.

"P-please," she said, haltingly. "He's sick, please. Please don't -"

Algernon stopped his progress with her up the stairs, and she felt the cold knife blade skim her throat. Had it been sharper, it would have drawn blood.

"What's this? Is silly, stupid Noland going to die? Tsk, tsk, we can't have that." He leaned closer to whisper in Nora's ear. "Although, you're better off without him, young Eleanor."

She shuddered, leaning away from him, but the knife was ever-present at her neck, so she was forced to endure his nearness.

He spoke loudly at the guard. "Pick him up, Frederick. Cassandra wants to see all of them. He's no good if he's dead - _yet_."

Obediently, Frederick, who was quite beefy, hoisted Raven over one shoulder. The careless movement seemed to wake Raven up, because Nora could hear him moaning again, faintly. She felt slightly relieved - as long as she could hear him, she knew he was alive. The group continued their journey up the winding stairs.

The climb seemed to last forever, but eventually the climax appeared, just one more flight over their heads. Finally, they reached the top. The stairs ended in a small landing with a tiny door set in the wall. It looked like it was made for children, it was so low. They had to take turns stepping through, one at a time. The burly guard carrying Raven, Frederick, had to get on his hands and knees and crawl to clear the door frame.

The room on the other side was much larger. From the secret stairwell to this room was like going from night to day. All of a sudden it was warmer and brighter - the air smelled clean and dry. It was so brightly lit that it hurt their eyes, and they blinked rapidly as they saw where they were. High ceilings, an intricately tiled floor -

The other two didn't recognize it, but Nora did immediately. It was the room from the magic book, from the first picture of Cassandra and Raven. There were tapestries hung all over the walls, and a fire burned merrily in the grate.

Standing beside it, tall and severe in her beauty, was Cassandra.

* * *

"I'm surprised at you, princess. I thought you had more sense," Cassandra said silkily. "I gave you a chance - you could have forgotten all about dear Noland and gone on your way." She seated her willowy frame in a grand cushioned chair, leveling them with her icy, pure blue eyes. "You should have taken it. It would have been enough for me to separate you and your prince for eternity, but _no_, you had to go and make things _difficult_."

Nora started. Raven, a _prince?_ She felt completely bewildered, but the pieces clicked into place. A previous conversation came to the forefront of her memory, something she had said, after Barton had given Raven back his pendant: _'You were high-born, Raven.'_

Nora snapped back to reality as Cassandra continued. "Now I am forced to deal with you for good." Regally, she turned her head to Frederick, nodding at him. He stepped forward, depositing Raven on the floor next to Nora. Algernon, meanwhile, jabbed his blade at Nora menacingly one more time for good measure, then shoved her away so she almost topped over the heap that was Raven. Then he importantly strode forward to stand behind Cassandra's chair.

Cassandra glared at him, and he immediately looked cowed, losing the puffed-up expression that he had been wearing. Cassandra jerked her head toward the door. At first Algernon looked indignant, but Cassandra merely had to point a finger at him to change his mind. He took one look at her digit and scurried away out a side door, his face terrified.

Nora couldn't ignore Raven, despite the fear she felt under Cassandra's gaze. She sank to her knees and leaned over him, searching his face, pushing his thick hair away from his forehead. He opened his eyes marginally. He looked green. He seemed to see something in her eyes, though, something that made him determined not to remain on the ground. Despite her low protestations, he set his mouth in a firm line and pushed himself up. It was not without great effort. Nora hurried to lend him her shoulder for support. He leaned on her heavily, but he was able to hold his ground. Eventually they were both standing, facing the fairy.

Nearer to the secret door where they had entered - now concealed by a indigo tapestry woven with griffins - Phillip still struggled with the second guard, squirming fruitlessly against the muscled arms that held him captive.

Cassandra surveyed the two standing in front of her for a moment. "Let this be finished, once and for all," she muttered. Her expression was blank, unreadable. She lifted her hand, her look growing intense-

"Wait!" Nora said frantically. She was frightened - Raven was leaning on her a great deal to stay upright, but she in turn was unnecessarily clutching his arm and his shirt for dear life, her pulse pounding. It didn't matter, though. If she didn't speak, there would never be another chance. She needed to stall whatever Cassandra had in mind for them - most likely, their end.

Cassandra looked impatient. "Wait? _Wait?_" Unexpectedly, she lost a bit of her regal mask. Her face looked almost demented for a second - completely mad.

"I have been waiting for over one hundred years - waiting for what the prophecy foretold, waiting to _get rid of it_. I thought it was finished, but I was wrong - you wouldn't let it be, you stupid girl. I see now what I need to do, and I must do it myself - I was foolish to think I could avoid it." Almost to herself, she added, "Though I did always hate meddling in this sort of business."

"What, you mean _murder?_" Nora said, outraged. "Why would you take issue with that? You've done everything short of it, haven't you?"

Raven looked down at her, shaking his head minutely, but she merely shook her head back in response. _There's nothing to lose, now_.

"How _dare_ you! You, a stupid, foolish _human_! How _dare_ you speak to me so!" Cassandra sat up straight in her chair, her eyes flashing.

Nora trembled. One second, and it could all be over. She had to keep Cassandra talking. Beside her, she felt Raven's hands holding onto her. She was holding him up, in a physical sense, but in a way he was also holding _her_ up, steadying her. She tried to be brave for the both of them.

"I only speak the truth. You're angry because you know it as well as I - and maybe you're remorseful."

Cassandra laughed throatily, and it sounded nothing like her usual bell-and-wind chime voice. It sounded frighteningly real - what the true Cassandra was like.

"Why would I be remorseful? I acted only to get what I wanted, my heart's desire. Because I did so, it is closer than ever to being in my grasp."

"If what you want more than anything hurts so many people, then it must be evil," Raven said suddenly. He was burning up, Nora could feel the heat of the fever radiating off of him.

"Necessary means to an end. Once I am queen, everything will be different. There will still be pain, for those who defy me, but there will be no more war. The need for it will be eliminated, because I will rule over this entire land. . . from sea to sea. . ."

"You can't be queen," Nora said quietly.

"What? How dare -"

"You can't, because fairies can't hold positions of power - they self-destruct under the weight of it."

"I will be the exception!"

"No, you won't. My godmother told me all about Big magic - about the fairies in history who tried to use it to rule over all other creatures - they all met their end, because it is against nature itself. No one should possess so much power. The balance has to be upheld."

Cassandra stood up. Her expression was demented, murderous. "Who are you to tell me-?"

Nora knew their fate was hanging on a knife's edge. She had to be careful, but this was their only chance, as far as she could see. It was clear to her what she must try to do.

"I'm not a fairy, but I am one of you."

Cassandra stared. Raven was gripping Nora's arm, squeezing it, warning her to be careful, but she knew what she was doing. No Big magic this time, or ever again - only words, only her wit. Only small magic.

"What can you mean, you silly girl?"

Wordlessly, Nora lifted the sleeve of her potato sack dress. Quickly and cleanly, she ripped it down the middle.

"What are you-?" Raven whispered, but Nora ignored him. She held up her arm so Cassandra could see, and then concentrated.

In the blink of an eye, the sleeve mended itself.

Cassandra was dumbstruck. "How can this be?" she whispered. Then, understanding lit up her eyes. "The prophecy - this was in the prophecy - _'The secret she keeps is hidden behind a strange and unique gaze'. . . 'Her gift will guide her'. . ._"

Nora's mask-like magic was still in effect; her eyes were still blue. Silently, to add to the point she was making, she let the mask slip. Small magic. She stared at Cassandra solemnly with violet eyes. She spoke slowly, carefully. "You can never be queen of anything; you're a fairy. But, if you really wanted it. . . to be queen _and_ have power. . ."

"What, what?" Cassandra demanded, entranced.

"You would have to be like me."

"You?" Cassandra looked disgusted.

"Yes, I know you disdain humans, but I am a little more than that, aren't I? I have magical power, the same as you. The only difference is that I'm mortal. Turns out, that makes _all_ the difference. _I _could be queen of this imaginary kingdom of yours - what was it? - from sea to sea."

She left out one tiny detail: her lack of immortality wasn't the only thing that would allow her to wear a crown. She also wasn't corruptible - not in danger of becoming consumed by a lust for power, like all fairies were. Most fairies stayed far away from Big magic, knowing what road that might lead them down, what catastrophes, but Cassandra was an anomaly.

The fairy in question was talking to herself. "Mortal. . . with powers. . . I never imagined. . ." Suddenly, she frowned. "If I am a mortal, I will die someday."

Nora smoothly cut in. "But you'll be like me: you will have your magic. You could use it to live as long as you pleased."

"Yes. . . that's right. . . yes, I see it now!" Cassandra's expression was lit with the glow of understanding, drunk with it. She laughed. "You moronic simpleton, you could have done _anything_ - all doors are open to you. Such a gift is wasted on you! _I_ will do what no one has dared to do, and I _will_ be queen!"

She didn't need another moment to decide. Her deepest wish was going to come true, much sooner than she could have hoped. She couldn't wait to snatch the crown from Algernon's head and place it on her own brow. It was the beginning, and she wanted it with a mad fervor. Yes, she would be mortal, but she could use her magic - which she took for granted, sure it would remain in her possession if she changed herself - to make her life as long as she wanted. Hastily, she closed her eyes, bringing her arms to her sides, becoming still as a statue, concentrating inwards. . .

She began to glow. It started out weak, and then got brighter.

"What is she doing? Nora-"

"Just wait, Raven," Nora whispered. She felt like they had been teetering on the brink of a precipice, and she had just leaped off the edge. Would they either fall, or fly? Would Cassandra really do it? If she did, it would be Big magic. Huge magic. Who knew what might happen afterward? Either way it went, this was a gigantic gamble.

The light emanating from the fairy was almost blinding, now. They turned, shielding their eyes. It got brighter and brighter, and just when it seemed like it might rival the sun, it went out.

Nora gasped.

Standing where Cassandra had once been was a different woman altogether. She was still tall and willowy, but the glamour was gone. Instead of a cascade of white-blonde hair, there was a stringy mane, almost devoid of color. Instead of huge blue eyes, there were small beady ones. In place of pouty, perfect lips, there was a thin pair stretched over horsey teeth. This person was almost comically ugly in comparison with the beauty of before.

"Is that Cassandra?" Phillip blurted out from behind them. Nora turned. The guard wasn't holding him hostage anymore - instead, he was slightly bent over beside Phillip, rubbing his head with his hands, looking confused.

Cassandra didn't seem to realize what had happened. Instead, she was smiling at Nora and Raven, mad as a hatter.

"Your time is up," she said. She raised her hand.

Nothing happened. Cassandra gave up the theatrics and dropped her arm, simply staring at them intently, her eyes bulging.

A minute passed. Still nothing.

Cassandra shrieked. "_What's happening?_" She started flailing about, waving her arms every which way, as if the magic would somehow come shooting out of one of her appendages.

"You can't be like me, Cassandra. I was born this way; it's in my blood," Nora said calmly, but really her insides felt like they had turned to liquid. Her voice didn't quaver, but she trembled slightly - not in fear, not in anxiousness, but with the joy of realization. Unknowingly, Cassandra had relinquished her powers when she turned herself human. There weren't more than a handful in the world like Nora - it required a distinct lineage. You had to be a special human to have the magic in the bloodline, the fairy blood, come to fruition. A long line of Eleanors, all of their potential, had culminated in her. Without her mistake on the mountain, the unexpected meeting with her family, she never would have known this. She looked up at Raven, who looked back down at her quizzically. She smiled at him brilliantly, and he smiled back, still confused. She kissed him on one of his dimples.

Phillip came up behind them. "You mean to say she's made herself-"

"_MORTAL? WITHOUT MY MAGIC?"_ Cassandra screeched.

"Well, yes," said Nora simply, as if it was obvious. "Mortal - and nothing more." Raven leaned down, grinning into her hair, hugging her. Phillip was busy coming around to Raven's other side, to help prop him up. He hefted Raven's arm over his shoulder, and then peered over at Nora.

"Well done," he said, then grinned a gigantic smile that practically split his face in two. Nora and Raven laughed. They couldn't seem to stop. Phillip joined in. They were all laughing uncontrollably, none of them quite knowing why. Suddenly everything seemed hysterically funny.

The three of them started shuffling for the door.

"_SEIZE THEM! GUARDS, SEIZE THEM!_" Cassandra was shouting, but no one was listening to her. They were all rubbing their heads, or looking around as if they had no idea where they were. One of them stared at Cassandra, bafflement all over his face.

"Who are you?" he asked her.

The three young people burst into more peals of laughter, doubling over with it. Nora couldn't catch her breath. Finally she managed to speak.

"Come on. . ." she said, giggles still escaping between her words. "It's time we found Raven a bed."

"I could use one, myself," Phillip said.

As Cassandra screamed and shrieked and wailed behind them, they exited the room.

* * *

Before they could get very far, a servant stopped them. The poor thing looked more than a bit frazzled.

"If you please, sirs and miss, we can't find the king _anywhere_ - nor Queen Ella, nor the princes - have you seen them about, perchance?"

Phillip and Raven stared at her, but Nora understood. The curse was gone. There were going to be a lot of confused people wandering about Kyrria for awhile.

"Where do you remember last seeing them?" Nora asked kindly.

"Well, I remember Their Majesties going on a trip of sorts, and I was in the kitchens, tending to getting everything laid out for breakfast the next morning - oh, but it was middle of the night, then, it was, and the sun is just setting now. . . oh dear, it gets all fuzzy after that, I'm afraid."

"What's your name?"

"Fanny, miss."

Nora thought for a second. She realized there was no time for her to rest - this was her father's kingdom, but he wasn't here, yet. She would have to take things in hand. Cassandra and Algernon would have to be dealt with, servants and guards would need to be directed, preparations should be begun for her family's return, explanations made to everyone else. . . not to mention, Raven needed to be put to bed and immediately tended to.

"Fanny, the royal family will be returning in a few days - the king and queen _and_ the princes. No, don't apologize, it's perfectly all right. Now, I'm acting as the king's steward until he returns. If you'll help me, there's a few things I need you to do. . ."

* * *

_**I love my reviewers! You all make writing this story so much fun. I have gotten the sweetest comments, and I just want to say I appreciate it SO much. Thank you!  
**_

_**One more chapter to go, and maybe an epilogue. Maybe. (Maybe I'll let all of you decide?)**_

_**It's almost over! This is kind of sad for me, but also exciting.**_


	25. Homecomings

_**Apparently I enjoy being prolific. Ah, well.**_

_**Anyway, I wanted to get this up because I'm going to be away all weekend. So, here it is! Enjoy.  
**_

* * *

**25 - HOMECOMINGS**

For the next several days, a torrential downpour rained down on Frell.

No one could account for it. One minute, it had been a fine autumn day, the sun setting beautifully in the west, a cacophony of oranges and crimsons. . . the next, the clouds had rolled in as if out of nowhere, and a heavy wind had begun to blow. The dark storm had blocked out the remaining sliver of sunlight, and then it had started to pour.

It rained and rained, and there was no stop to it. The streets of Frell eventually flooded, and people were forced to leave their dwellings and seek higher ground. Many sought shelter at the castle, which had a prime situation on a hill overlooking the city. Nora made arrangements to room as many refugees as possible. Out in the streets, random objects were often seen floating by in the deluge: kitchen tables, cups and saucers, and once, even a large four-poster bed, fully made up.

Only Nora truly understood it. The proof was that the fairy Cassandra was sitting in a heavily guarded prison cell, no longer beautiful. . . no longer a fairy.

She kept forgetting that she couldn't do magic, and every time she tried and failed, she only went more berserk. The last straw was when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in a guard's shining armor, spying the first wrinkle that had appeared on her newly-mortal face.

She was utterly senseless after that. No one could get any speech out of her other than a few random babblings. More often than not, she would sit in the corner on the floor of her cell, running her fingers through her hair over and over, mumbling to herself about queens and cows and kitchen chairs.

It was enough for Nora to decide that the best place for Cassandra was a well-guarded, padded cell.

As for Algernon, he had attempted to steal away into the wild woods beyond the castle, but had made a rather grand error in the process. He had stuffed his pockets, his cloak pockets, and his large bags with all of the gold KJs he could carry, and the coins had fallen out willy-nilly as he had made his escape, creating a trail of gold that led straight to his whereabouts. He had gone no more than two steps into the forest before he was caught and hauled back. He yelled the entire way and all throughout his sentencing, but it was no use. He was banished from Kyrria, sent far away to a solitary prison that no one had ever even heard of.

All of this occurred in the few days before the royal family returned. They still had no idea what had happened in Kyrria - the magic book let them communicate with Nora, but not the other way around. As far as they knew, the curse was still unbroken, Algernon was still king, and Cassandra was still a power-hungry fairy. News was already making its way through Frell and beyond that everything had been turned on its head, and that the false-king's rule was over, but who knew if Ella, Char, and the rest would catch wind of it. When they finally arrived back in the city, accompanied by the suddenly-unnecessary Seliran soldiers, they were going to be in for the shock of their lives.

Nora was waiting on tenterhooks for their arrival, the anticipation making her even more careful than usual. She oversaw the preparations for everything herself, checking and double-checking that all would be perfect for her family. Perhaps she was even a little _too_ involved. It was when she was ripping the sheets off a partially-made bed, determined to wash them correctly with her own two hands (starched sheets? It would never do), when Fanny finally stepped in.

"All right, that's it." Fanny grabbed the sheets out of Nora's arms, throwing them back on the bed.

"Fanny, I-"

"No excuses, young lady. I want you out of this room, right now. You're not to lift a finger the rest of the day, understand?"

"But it's not-"

"Hush. I'm taking care of things. I'll see that everything is put right."

"Really, I can-"

"No, Majesty. _Out._"

Nora sighed and finally obeyed. She looked back once over her shoulder rather longingly, but Fanny glared at her fiercely, so she hurried out, deciding at once to visit Raven in the sickroom.

Nora was so grateful to Fanny. She had been such a help over the past few days. Nora would never have been able to get things in hand without her. Furthermore, Fanny was one of only two servants who knew for sure Nora's true identity - the princess Eleanor Rosalyn, missing daughter of Kyrria for well over a decade. The other servant who knew, of course, was Nancy. She had recognized Nora immediately, though Nora couldn't say the same, as she had been too young to remember. The rest of the servants suspected something, it was true. They saw her face, so much like Queen Ella's, and the older servants remembered the violet eyes. Still, they remained silent in Nora's presence, respectfully obeying whatever she told them to do, but gossiping up a storm the second she was out of ear-shot.

Some of them were still confused after being cursed for so long, still believing that it was sixteen years ago, still thinking that King Charmont and Queen Ella were away on their trip to Ayortha, still thinking that the princes were young boys. Many of them would never get over the confusion, even after everything had been explained to them, again and again, even after they had seen the grown-up princes themselves and become acquainted with Nora. It was a sad fact of the matter, but such were the consequences of Cassandra's stint terrorizing the countryside.

Nora passed a particularly addled servant in the hall, stopping to gently take a rake out of his arms, assuring him that it was not needed in the royal bedrooms. Maybe it wasn't the best idea, but she couldn't bear to let any of the help go, especially the ones who were so far gone. She resolved to speak with her father about hiring more servants to tend to the afflicted ones, maybe setting up a wing especially for their care - the royal family owed their long-suffering employees that much, at least.

She hurried to Raven's sickroom, a chamber near enough to the kitchens and the family wing to make it convenient. He was sleeping when she entered - he had been doing a lot of that lately. She sat down in a armchair by his bedside, sighing and closing her eyes. In a way, she was enjoying running things, but she would be glad when her parents returned.

"Long day?"

Her eyes flew open. Raven was awake after all, propped up on his pillows and smiling at her. He looked much healthier. She spied his Cerulean quartz pendant tucked into his shirt. Ever since he had reclaimed it from Cassandra, he had not taken it off.

"I thought you were asleep."

"Nah. I've been trying, but lately I'm tired of it. I want to get up and _do_ something."

"Tired of sleeping - that's an interesting notion." She chuckled at him a little.

"You wouldn't be laughing if it was _you_ who was confined to this blasted bed."

"Oh, do be quiet. You're almost mended - you'll be running all over the place and exhausting everyone with your energy in a day or so, just like always."

He smiled at her again. "Come here." He patted the mattress invitingly.

She frowned at him but got up anyway, primly seating herself on the very edge of the bed.

He rolled his eyes. "You're insufferable." He grasped her arm, yanking her over so she fell on her side next to him.

"Raven!" she whispered fiercely, scrambling up. "What will the servants say? This isn't proper-"

"Oh, hang proper," he said cheerfully, pulling her back next to him and planting a hearty kiss on her lips. Weakly, she let him kiss her a few more times before she disentangled herself from his arms, spryly hopping off the bed.

Raven frowned, disappointed.

"Don't worry. Soon you can chase me around to your heart's content." She sat herself back in the armchair, blowing him a kiss contrarily.

He perked up at her words, settling himself back into his cushions. "Well then, miss, if I can't have a kiss, I'd like a story."

"What would you like to hear?"

"Tell me your parent's tale again, but start with the encounter with the ogres."

Happily, she complied.

* * *

The next day, Raven was allowed out of bed and the royal family returned to Frell.

The water from the rains had gone down enough that they could walk through the city streets. Still, it was about ankle-deep, and they splashed their way to the castle, expressions of sadness and confusion on their faces. Frell, at this point, was in a shambles. Not only had it already been in a state of disrepair, but the flooding had done a fair number of damage as well, only adding to its depressed state.

Char and Ella and the rest had been perplexed ever since they had set foot in Kyrria. They had met with a few border patrols, but there had been no confrontation. A few had silently stared at their passing party, looking all the world like they thought they were daydreaming. Still more they had encountered wandering around, muttering to themselves and scratching their heads. Char tried questioning these poor souls, but could get nothing of sense out of them. Still others only saluted solemnly, standing at attention long after the royals had passed.

"Char, what can it mean?" Ella had whispered, but Char could only shake his head.

Frell. The floodwaters were alarming, yes, and so was the degradation they saw everywhere, but at the same time, there were no words for the way their hearts swelled up at finally returning. The familiar cobbled streets, the castle rising up in the distance, hearing their own tongue being spoken by people passing by - _home_.

At first, people only turned to stare because of the soldiers accompanying the ragged group. They raised their eyebrows, but were content to write the whole lot of them off as visiting nobles who were being obnoxiously cautious. That is, until Ella drew back her hood.

Jerry touched her shoulder, giving her a look that clearly said, _Do you think that's a good idea?_

She looked him in the eyes for a second, and she managed to convey to him with one look that she trusted what they all felt in the air - a lightness, like a sigh of relief, like a burden had just been lifted from the city. They didn't know what it meant, but they were all hope. Ella's uncovered head, her face clearly in view, was like a test.

With Ella's hood removed, people starting paying more attention to their group. The younger citizens did not recognize her, only paying her any heed because she was rather striking to look at - a bright face, the merriment not quite fading from her eyes even though she was not smiling. It was a face that made many perk up, unconsciously returning to their clean-up with lighter hearts. It was only an older peasant woman who turned the tide.

The woman, tending to a small cart with a scanty offering of sad-looking vegetables, was one of the variable few who turned to look at the passing group of strangers. When she caught sight of Ella, she squinted for a minute, unsure if her eyes were deceiving her.

"Oh my goodness," she finally whispered, her face going slack with shock. "Oh my goodness," she said, a little louder, which caught her husband's notice. He followed her gaze to Ella, his eyes widening with disbelief.

"It can't be!" he whispered, but his wife was already pushing toward the band of travelers. She was pointing, saying something loudly, drawing the attention of everyone in hearing distance.

"They've returned!" she was saying. "The king and queen have returned! Queen Ella - King Charmont!" She finally reached the edge of their group. The Seliran soldiers tensed up, but Ella held out her hand, motioning for them to remain at ease. Everyone came to a halt as the peasant woman stood before them, looking at them all fervently before dropping into a deep bow.

There was a swift moment where everything quieted, the bustle of the street pausing for a second, and then a murmur swept up and down among the people. Ella and Char looked at each other, deciding something. Then, as if it was planned, the rest of them dropped their hoods, revealing their faces entirely, along with Ella.

There was a collective gasp - the peasant woman's outburst had drawn many, many pairs of eyes. Shouts started to rise up from the people surrounding the family, and more and more were being drawn to the commotion to see what all of the fuss was about.

"Look! The princes have returned!"

"Is that Queen Ella?"

"They're alive!"

"They have returned to Kyrria!"

"Down with Algernon!"

The cheering spread, and people came running from all directions to see if the word traveling as quick as lightning through the streets was true.

The royal family watched in complete wonder and utter humbleness as the people went to their knees - slowly at first, but then in waves. Some remained standing, still not quite believing, but most bowed reverently, welcoming their true rulers home to Kyrria.

The party that finally arrived at the castle gates had multiplied by hundreds. The people followed the royal family as they made their way up the hill, all shouting and cheering and dancing together and throwing flowers. The flood was totally forgotten, any business or clean-up that had been in progress abandoned. The crowd accompanied Ella, Char, the princes, and Mandy right up to the castle, where Nora and Raven and Phillip were waiting for them on the front steps. A crowd of servants had formed a few feet behind them, jostling to get the first look.

Nora couldn't contain herself. She broke from the formal group and ran down to welcome her family before they could set foot on the first stair.

* * *

How surprised they were, once they learned of all that had happened to Nora after she had arrived in Frell.

"We knew something was off the second we were back in Kyrria, but we had no idea that it was so. . . so _huge_," Gareth was saying. Everyone was seated in the sitting room in the family's private wing, chatting together over spiced ale. A roaring fire was in the grate, and a cozy, homey feeling enveloped them all.

"It was a gamble. Things could have gone a lot differently," Jerry said.

Nora glanced up at him from her spot on the floor, her hand tightening on her mug. "I don't think you-"

"_But_," he said, smiling slightly, "if you hadn't done anything - if you'd waited for us like we planned. . . well, we would all still be at the mercy of Cassandra, wouldn't we? Soldiers or no soldiers, it wouldn't have made a difference. It was _you_. I don't know how we would have managed without you, Nora."

"It's strange," David said. "I can't imagine how we _ever_ got on without her."

"There was a hole for all those long years, that's for certain," Ella said.

Char raised his glass. "To Nora," he said.

Nora ducked her head as everyone raised their glasses of ale in response, repeating his toast.

Next to her, Raven was smiling proudly. Char turned to him, speaking with gratitude. "And to you, Raven. You were always constant and true to her. You helped keep her safe for us. We are all in your debt for that." Raven nodded slowly, taking Nora's hand in his. Char lifted his glass again. "To Raven."

They toasted and drank, and in the second of silence that followed, Phillip spoke up. "You know, I think I deserve a toast, too - after all, who went down into that nasty dungeon with Nora, not knowing if we'd ever come out? My bravery was beyond anything. My name will go down in the history books, surely. I can just see it: _Phillip the Courageous vanquished the oppressors of Kyrria, and Nora sort of helped-_"

Nora threw a scone at his head. Everyone was busy laughing after that. Still, once they had settled down again, Raven lifted his glass in Phillip's direction, and they all toasted him as well.

Henry, who was on his third glass, was becoming a bit cheerful and rosy-cheeked. "To everyone!" he said, sloshing his mug.

Needless to say, it was a very jolly night.

* * *

Within a week, Char was reinstated as king, relieving Nora of her fill-in duties. They strolled through the gardens together, talking things over.

"You did well," he said. "There's not a thing you did that I wouldn't have done, myself. You'll make a great ruler someday, if your path takes you in that direction."

Nora looked troubled. "Father. . . I was wondering. . ."

"Yes?"

"Well. . . is that what you expect of me? You and mother?"

Something was nagging at her. Everyday, Raven grew more and more anxious to return to Haddora. He was not bent on returning to Foothill Knell, though - he wanted to go to the capitol, Dora. What he was looking forward to, what he was _hoping_ for, was a reunion with his father. He had told Nora the entire story of his past in a private conversation, along with his restored childhood memories of being a young prince. Nora had been fascinated, and eager to accompany him on his planned journey. The only problem was, would her parents sanction such a thing? What was the protocol, now that she was acknowledged as a princess, and must act like one?

More than any of those things was a bigger question: would she be required to marry where it would be most advantageous? Raven had not asked her, but she knew deep down that he would, someday. She also knew, deep down, that she wanted to say yes when that someday came. Would she even be able to?

Char put his arm around her, guiding her to a nearby bench and pulling her to sit next to him. He took her hand, gazing at her with a quiet, patient expression that was a mirror of one she often wore herself. "Nora, after all you've done for us, after all you've done for this country, do you really think your mother and I would force you down a path that was not your choice?"

She looked at him, her forehead still crinkled with worry. "I don't want to disappoint anyone."

Unexpectedly, Char laughed. "Disappoint anyone? How could you ever - ? Are you forgetting who your parents are? Who your mother is? If anyone wants you to have the freedom make your own choices in life, it's her. And frankly, my sweet girl, you have earned it."

"But what about being a princess? I can't just go wander off whenever I want, can I? I can't just do whatever I please."

He sobered. "Yes and no. Yes, you are a princess, and there are certain ways you must behave, now. You will be representing Kyrria wherever you go, after all. Fortunately, you already conduct yourself with grace and intelligence, Nora. I have no worries on that count. As for wandering off, you will be able to travel, with a few stipulations. It is your life. You have earned the right to decide what to do with it."

"Oh, Father. You mean - ?"

"You may do whatever your heart tells you is right. He's already asked me for your hand, though it was unnecessary. I told him yes, of course. How could I not? He's a fine young man. Your mother was ecstatic."

Nora stared at him. "My hand? Who asked you for my hand?"

Char drew up, surprised. "Oh no, have I spoiled it? You mean to tell me that he hasn't asked you yet?"

"Asked me?" she said faintly. He could only be talking about Raven, right?

He shook his head ruefully. "It seems I've spoken too soon. Let's pretend we never had this conversation, shall we? At least, that last part."

"Of course. . . " she was still reeling. She hadn't expected this so soon.

Char kissed her temple, patting her hand. "I'll let you alone for awhile to mull it over. Don't stay too long, though; your mother wants to go riding with you later, she said for me to tell you."

With that, he left her to herself, her head still spinning.

* * *

She was returning to the castle when Phillip caught up with her.

"Nora!" he called eagerly. "There you are!"

Her heart sank. Something twisted anxiously in the pit of her stomach. What if _Phillip_ had asked for her hand? She thought it had been clear who her choice would be, if she ever had one - which now, obviously, she did. She had not explained in so many words, but hadn't it been obvious? Her mother, at least, was intuitive enough to guess. Right? Or were her parents enthusiastic about a proposal from the wrong suitor?

She didn't have time to stew on it any longer. Phillip was grabbing her hand, pulling her down a different lane of the garden, away from the castle.

"Come on," he said. "There's something I want to show you."

Her stomach was turning somersaults. Surely Phillip wasn't so daft? He _knew_ she loved Raven. He had acknowledged it - the jealousy she sometimes caught in his eyes. . .

He was dragging her to the edge of a pond, which was mostly obscured by the long, dangling foliage of weeping willows that crowded around its bank. "Right through here," he said, pushing aside a curtain of green. Before she could walk through, he halted her for a second, squeezing her hand. Her insides were practically pirouetting, now. What was she going to do?

He leaned forward, and for a wild moment she thought he was going to kiss her.

No, she was only half right - he merely pecked her on the cheek, smiling at her conspiratorially before he pushed her toward the tree, letting the curtain of leaves fall behind her. He did not follow.

She turned, frowning at his feet, which was all she could see of him as he disappeared from view. He was leaving. That meant -

"Nora."

She turned, startled. Raven was standing by the trunk of the tree, looking at her expectantly. She took a deep breath of relief as he chuckled at her reaction, then held out his hand for her. All of a sudden, she felt as peaceful and calm as a smooth sea - her mood now reflected the surface of the nearby pond, still and gleaming like a mirror. She eagerly closed the distance between them, taking his offered hand.

"I knew there would be no chasing," he murmured, giving her a little smile. Then he led her down to the bank of the pond, where she noticed, for the first time, a little rowboat waiting. He helped her climb in, and then followed, picking up the oars and rowing them into a more secluded area, where a willow grew out from a bank and draped its leaves onto the surface of the pond. A cool breeze stirred up out of nowhere, making wisps of Nora's hair float away from her face. She closed her eyes. It was a beautiful autumn day.

"This is lovely," she said.

"So are you," was Raven's reply. She opened her eyes. He had set the oars aside and was staring at her intently. Heat spread slowly on her cheeks, painting them pink. This was a look he had been directing at her often, but one that always made her catch her breath with its force. He considered her for another moment, then shifted forward, like he wanted to move to sit beside her. The boat wiggled precariously in response, tipping slightly with his weight. He frowned, sitting back down. "Well, that's inconvenient." He settled on reaching out for her hand again, taking it in both of his own. "Anyway, we're as alone as we can possibly be." He looked at her, his expression softening as he seemed to make up his mind.

"Nora," he said, and his voice dipped into the earnest tone that she loved so much. Her heart skipped a beat as she listened. "I can't side-step around this. I must speak, I must ask you. I've loved you forever. I'll keep loving you forever - until I die, or time stops, or the world ends, or-" he stopped, catching his breath. "Will you marry me?"

She couldn't speak, she was so happy. Without realizing what she was doing, she launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck. The boat, meanwhile, had other plans. It was tiny, and not meant for such moments. Their combined weight on one side made the entire vessel tip, and Nora's momentum forced Raven backward along with the boat. In one instant, the entire thing capsized, tossing its passengers into the pond.

Luckily, the water wasn't deep by the bank, but they were still in it up to their waists, dripping wet. Nora couldn't have cared less. The second they surfaced, she grabbed Raven again, kissing him with renewed enthusiasm - a little _too_ much enthusiasm. He fell over with her arms still clasped around him, making another magnificent splash. Some of the gardeners came running to see what on earth was in the pond. They peered through the curtain of leaves at the young lovers, nudging each other and smiling.

Raven was laughing his head off, meanwhile, and Nora was intent on finally getting a satisfactory kiss. Finally, he calmed enough to lean down to assist her. A long moment went by before they pulled apart.

"That was the best reaction I could've hoped for," he said finally, grinning.

She pushed his sopping wet hair out of his face. _All mine_, she thought.

"I love you," she said.

* * *

Eventually, Nora and Raven were able to set out on their journey back to Haddora.

Jerry, ever the rule-follower and strict older brother, would not allow them to travel alone. ("The courtiers will be chattering about nothing else if we do. Talk spreads at court, never forget. At least you're engaged, now. That should keep a few tongues from wagging.") Unwillingly, they accepted the assembled envoy that would accompany them, which included two coaches, six servants, five guards, two footmen and four drivers.

They waved goodbye to Nora's family as the coaches pulled away. They were sad to part again, but it was as Nora had thought: they would part time and time again, but there would always be a reunion to look forward to. Besides, she knew they wouldn't miss her _too_ much. They all had much to occupy themselves. Char was busy working out strategies to rehabilitate the economy, and Ella was seeing to the new legion of servants who had been taken on to work in the freshly established care wing, for those people whom Cassandra's curse had altered beyond recovery. Jerry was constantly at Char's side, learning everything there was to know about running a country, and Gareth, Henry, and David were occupied with military training. Henry in particular wanted to fulfill his duties as a soldier for his country. Mandy often disappeared into her private pantry and gardens and was not seen for hours at a time. Nora had a feeling that she was busy brewing up vats of Tonic. Phillip, finding that Kyrria was much to his liking, decided to stay on, and Char found him some work at the stables under the head groomsman. It turned out that Phillip was very good with animals, especially horses.

Everyone was settling into routines, keeping busy and happy. With this in mind, Nora let herself feel excited about traveling again - the freedom of an open road and the anticipation of returning to Haddora.

Dora, it turned out, was a city built of stone, surrounded by pines and firs, the woodsy smell infiltrating everywhere. In the distance, the snowy peak of Mount Dagger was just visible. When their coaches pulled up in front of the castle, Nora could only stare. It wasn't like the shining white palace in Frell. It was much more rough-looking, much more akin to a fortress. The towers and turrets were not so tall and imposing, rather, the whole castle was lower, more spread-out, encased by an impressive stone wall that looked impenetrable. The courtyard was paved with more of the rough stone, but in the very center was a circle of green, and in the center of this was a towering tree, looking ancient and gnarled, though still lush with leaves.

No one came to greet their entourage. Nora and Raven glanced at each other, uncertain. "You did send them a note, didn't you?" Nora whispered.

"I did, but I never got a reply. I figured they had nothing to object to, so they didn't bother. I hope my note didn't go astray."

What he didn't tell her was that Char had actually sent the note, and Raven had simply signed his name at the bottom of it. Char had felt a letter from the king of Kyrria would give more weight to the unspoken claim: Prince Noland, supposed dead by the general populace for thirteen years, was quite alive. The message had said, quite simply:

_Prince Noland of Haddora requests an audience with His Royal Majesty of Haddora, King Nathaniel. If there is no objection, Prince Noland's coach will arrive at the castle in Dora at five o'clock in the afternoon, one week hence._

Before they could get too worried about the lack of people to welcome them, a lone figure emerged from a nondescript side-door, hurrying to their coach. Nora could see that she had graying brown hair and a care-worn face. They quickly exited the coach to meet her.

"Danielle?" Raven blurted out.

The woman drew up short, staring. "_Noland?_" she exclaimed, her face transforming with wonder. Before he could reply, she rushed at him, flinging her arms around him. Raven smiled, returning the embrace. Danielle stepped back, lifting her hands to place one on either side of his face. She took stock of him, then smiled. "So handsome," she said. "You were only a little boy when I saw you last. Just look at you!" She tweaked his cheek before peering around him at Nora, who was standing quietly off to the side. "Is this your young lady?"

"This is my Nora. We're going to be married soon. Nora, this is Danielle. She was my nursemaid."

Danielle reached out to warmly hug Nora. "Congratulations, both of you! Lovely to meet you, you're such a pretty thing - oh, my, I'm so sorry you didn't get a better welcome. No one knew you were coming, save myself and maybe a few other servants. We've been all in an uproar for the last few weeks, understand."

As she led them inside the drafty front entrance, their envoy trailing behind with their bags, she explained.

The king, who had become more and more reclusive with each passing year to the point where he rarely showed his face to even his most trusted servants, had left his chambers one morning about a fortnight ago.

The few inhabitants left in the castle were shocked. Many had abandoned their posts as the failing king continually lost his grip. The ones remaining were the most loyal, or too old to find new situations. They were flabbergasted to see the king wandering around. Most had not caught a glimpse of him in ten years. He was not quite in his right mind, but yet was more lucid than anyone could ever remember him being. He kept muttering to himself, over and over, "She's gone. . . she's gone. . ."

Even more surprising was when he had started asking whomever he passed the same question: "Where is my son?" The king had not mentioned Prince Noland since the month after the boy's death (or, rather, his disappearance).

At this point in Danielle's story, tears were pricking Raven's eyes. Nora touched his shoulder. He turned, wiping his face on his sleeve, trying to be discreet, but Danielle saw anyway. She stopped, looking at him in a melancholy way.

"He fell apart when you disappeared. I've never seen a man with such great sadness in him. Not long after, maybe a month, is when she first visited - the fairy. No one else knew. She used to appear in his chamber - she found me spying, once. I was going to get help, but she threatened me, and worst of all, my son. She was using the king, twisting his mind and making him confused. After her visits, he used to sit for hours in his room, just sobbing. He is no more to blame for the past thirteen years than you are. He was her puppet, her dummy. She _is _gone, now, isn't she? For good?"

They wordlessly nodded. Nora tucked her arm through Raven's, linking them together.

Danielle continued. "I'm afraid. . . I'm afraid there isn't much of him left, Noland. It hurts me to say this, but you must prepare yourself." He was staring at the floor, his sunny face dimmed. She leaned forward, trying to get him to meet her eyes. "Would you like to see him? I was going to let you get settled, first, but. . ."

"Take me to him," Raven said, looking up and squeezing Nora's hand. She squeezed back with reassuring pressure.

Danielle instructed their servants to take the luggage to the guest rooms. Then she turned down a different hallway, leading Nora and Raven down a corridor, through a creaking door, and up a tower to a bank of rooms far away from the rest of the castle. She hesitated once before pushing through an arched door, standing aside and holding it open so they could pass through.

The air in the room was warm and heavy. The chamber was mostly devoid of furniture but for a large four-poster bed and a few chairs. A man sat in one of them by a dwindling fire. Nora knew he couldn't be any older than her own parents, yet his hair and shaggy beard were snow-white. He turned at their entrance, lifting a slightly shaking hand to tug at his beard absentmindedly while he stared at them. His eyes were the exact same hazel as Raven's. They looked large and scared, set in his frail face.

"Majesty? You have a visitor." Danielle went and kneeled in front of him, taking his bony hands and rubbing them with her own. She spoke slowly and carefully, looking right at him. "Your son is here. Remember? You've been asking for him. Your son."

The king lifted his head, looking at Raven. "My son?" he said, his forehead wrinkled. His voice was very quiet and slightly hoarse from disuse. Nora suddenly remembered that this was a man who had once loved to use it to play notes on his whistle and tell his son stories. Oh, Cassandra had stolen much from him, and Nora's heart could only squeeze with pity.

As Danielle carefully drew away, Raven took a few steps toward Nathaniel. "Father? Do you know me?"

"My son was a little boy. . . just a little boy. . ."

Raven's voice was exceedingly gentle. "Many years have passed, Father. I am that same boy. I am Noland."

As Nathaniel took in Raven's heavy black hair, his open, earnest features, his hazel eyes, a flicker of recognition passed over his face. He didn't speak again, just lifted a tremulous hand in his son's direction. Raven fell to his knees in front of his father, letting the frail man grip his fingers with what little strength he had.

They did not speak for a long time, and eventually Nora and Danielle tip-toed out, leaving them alone to try to recover pieces of what should have been.

* * *

Hand-in-hand, Nora and Raven walked through the castle together, exploring. Raven had already shown her his old bed chamber, as well as the stables - his old pony, Lightening, was still alive. Raven had been delighted to find him, and they had spent three-quarters of an hour currying the beast and feeding him bits of carrot.

Many of the old servants that had been at the castle when Raven was small were still there, and they all wanted to grasp his hand and clap him on the shoulder. He knew each of them by name, even after so much time.

Now they walked slowly through an echoing hallway, examining a gallery of large oil portraits of the past kings of Haddora. Nora stared at each in turn, trying to find a bit of Raven in his ancestors, but Raven was distracted.

"Nora," he said quietly. "There's something we must discuss."

"Your father," she said. They were standing under his portrait, a much younger version of Nathaniel, possibly how he looked when he first took the throne. His hair was thick and the same texture as Raven's, but it was sandy brown instead of black. His face was stern and rather serious, but the painter had managed to capture some sort of elusive twinkle in his eyes. They were beautiful eyes; Raven's eyes. Green and amber and gold ringed the pupils, even a few tiny flecks of blue.

"Yes. He. . . he's not fit to rule. He hasn't been for years - Cassandra took complete control, eventually. We were lucky we stopped her when we did. He was that close to losing his mind. And. . . and I'm the prince. I have a duty to my country, to _him_. I know we haven't talked about our future in much detail, but-"

"But you want to fulfill that duty."

"Yes - Nora, I know this isn't what you signed up for, when you said you would marry me, and I hope you know that I would never-"

"Hush," she said, pressing her fingers to his lips. She looked at him carefully for a moment before she continued. "When I said I would marry you, that meant that I was ready to throw my future in with yours. That hasn't changed. I want to be beside you, always." She shrugged. "Anyway, after you told me about your past, I anticipated something like this. A prince always has obligations, but then, so does a princess."

"That's true. It didn't quite become real to me until we came here, though." He looked soothed, but still slightly apprehensive. "So, the thought of being a queen doesn't. . . frighten you? After all, we're both entirely new to this whole 'royal' thing. At times, it seems like the most daunting position in the world. At times, I find myself longing for our simple peasant existence. . . when I was just a blacksmith's apprentice, and you were just the girl from the forest. But-"

"But things have changed. We can never go back." She paused. "I don't want to."

He looked down at her face, and he read the quiet certainty there. She had chosen her path, and she would walk it with him.

"Neither do I," he said.

He firmly took her hand again, and they continued together down the hallway of ancestors, of whose ranks they were one day destined to join.


	26. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

A few weeks later, Nora and Raven were married in Haddora. All of their families were in attendance, as well as many friends - Phillip, Thomas and Berta, Barton, Danielle, and even Greta took part in the festivities, flirting outrageously with any young man who looked at her, including Nora's brothers. For her part, Nora was too happy and occupied with her new husband to be dismayed.

Not long after the wedding, Raven took up his father's throne. The country was in awe that their prince had turned up after so long, and bards and storytellers from all over Haddora scrambled to be the first to write down his story, transpose it into verse, or recount it by the light of a fire. It was a tale for the ages, and of course, not complete without mentioning Noland's bride, Nora. When asked, she would always laugh and say that yes, she did have a little part in it, didn't she?

The celebrations concerning the return of the prince, his marriage to a princess, and their coronation as the new king and queen lasted for many, many months, and did much to create a feeling of unity and pride in Haddora.

As long as he lived, Raven always preferred the name that Barton had given him over his royal one. Those nearest and dearest to him would always address him thus. To the rest, he was King Noland. As for Nora, she was proud of being an Eleanor, but she inspired a fond familiarity from her subjects much like her mother before her, and Queen Nora was how she would be remembered forever after, even in the history books.

She never used Big magic again, but quite often, small magic came to the rescue in countless household mishaps - no one ever suspected a thing, but sometimes Raven would throw her a knowing smile.

As for the prophecy, after its fulfillment, most everyone forgot all about it. The person who had been the most obsessed with it, after all, was Cassandra - to her detriment. Most people knew that one cannot always set store by prophecies, they being such tricky things, most more often than not turning out to be loads of nonsense. Perhaps Cassandra's obsession with one was partly the reason why it came to fruition at all.

Just once, Nora sent a letter to the council in Fairyland - the only semblance of government in that strange and elusive country - proposing a write-up of laws concerning the proper use of magic. She never received a reply, and was bitterly disappointed, but what she didn't know was that the council had disbanded one-hundred and fifty years previously. A certain fairy had attempted to become the head of the council, completely overstepping her bounds and letting a few choice spells fly. Horrified, the remaining members had decided that they should not even risk trying to pretend that they had any kind of extra power, lest any one of them get out of control, too. They had immediately broken up, going back to cloaking themselves in the shield of obscurity, like any good fairies would have the sense to do.

Under King Noland and Queen Nora's rule, Haddora flourished. This was mostly due to the king's steady temper and ability to set anyone at ease, and the queen's wise council and tendency to listen. It was also much in the country's favor that its rulers had such strong bonds with the neighboring countries of Kyrria and Selira, and that they both deeply understood what it was to be of the lowest class in the kingdom.

Nathaniel never quite became the same as he had once been, but with the devotion of his son and daughter-in-law, he made great gains in his mental faculties, and eventually he could remember who they were without any lapses. Sadly, a few years after Raven became king, Nathaniel passed away, going quietly into the night. Their solace was that before he died, his first grandchild was laid in his arms, a little boy. Nathaniel was able to see that the young prince had inherited the bright blue eyes that had once belonged to his beloved young wife - Nerina.

Char and Ella reined in Kyrria for many prosperous years after the end of Cassandra, and people would long afterward refer to it as "the return of the golden years in Kyrria." Eventually, Char abdicated his throne to Jerry, and King Jerrold II had an equally long and prosperous rein, though he never married. He often jokingly said that his lack of heirs would never be a problem with so many nieces and nephews running around.

Prince Henry dedicated his life to being a soldier, and he spent many years on the road, getting into as many skirmishes as he pleased. Under his direction, the Kyrrian army was able to drive most of the ogres out of the country. Eventually he gave up bachelorhood for a jolly young woman who could easily put up with his sass, and together they had many wise-mouthed children.

Prince Gareth settled into a life of study and knowledge. He wrote many books, including what became the foremost authority on the lives and customs of elves. He spent many years living with them to broaden his research, and that is where he met his wife, a beautiful Elvish girl named Yennae. All of their children ended up having a strange yet lovely greenish tinge to their complexions, which would blush with orange in the autumn. In his later years, Gareth served as one of King Jerrold's most trusted advisors, and he helped advocate for peaceful negotiations with all of Kyrria's varied creatures.

Prince David eventually reunited with his sweetheart, Alison, and they married not long after Nora and Raven's wedding. They split their time between the Kyrrian and Haddoran courts, and David served as a liaison between both kingdoms. Alison eventually became one of Nora's closest and most trusted friends, and their children always spent summers together. David's son, Christopher, who was also the eldest grandchild of King Charmont and Queen Ella, was named heir apparent to the Kyrrian throne, and eventually became king.

Both Char and Ella lived long enough to see many grandchildren, including a few that carried on their names. The Eleanor line, in particular, never died out, but none inherited Nora's particular gift, including her violet eyes. The fairy blood remains the legacy of their descendants, however, and who is to say that it won't culminate again in another young Eleanor?

All things said and done, that is a story that remains for another time.

THE END

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* * *

_**There you have it, folks. It's finished! Final thoughts/gripes/etc? I'd love to hear them.**_

_**Anyway. I won't talk too long, but there are a few things I wanted to note.**_

_**Infinite thanks to everyone who read and especially all of you reviewers. The littlest comment was often what motivated me to continue.**_

_**A number of stories inspired TPATP, and I would be remiss if I didn't list them here. I've included the specific pieces from my fic that each story inspired.**_

_**- The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe: Cassandra's character was inspired partly by the White Witch.**_

_**- The Wild Swans: Nora has a lot of brothers because of this story.**_

_**- Sleeping Beauty: Inspired by the Disney version, Nora lives for 16 years with a fairy, never knowing the truth.**_

_**- The Snow Queen: Nora and Raven's relationship was inspired by the girl and boy in this Andersen fairy tale.**_

_**- The Lord of the Rings: Cassandra's lust for power, and that power's ability to destroy. Also, Galadriel's famous speech was another inspiration for Cassandra.**_

_**- Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs: Instead of a princess being saved by a woodsman, a prince is saved by a blacksmith.**_

_**- Harry Potter: The prophecy bit. I wanted a similar, fated-type thing that could foreshadow events.**_

_**And of course, none of this would be possible without Gail Carson Levine's wonderful story and amazing heroine. **_**Ella Enchanted**_** is a book that means so much to me. I had so much fun playing with the world and some of the characters.**_

_**So that's everything, I think. I don't have any ideas for new fics right now, but I suppose I'll be back at it again eventually. I would kind of like to go back over this one and edit, but I'll restrain myself for sanity's sake.**_

_**If you're at all interested in anything else I may write, don't forget to add me to author alert. It may be for Ella Enchanted or another fandom. . . who knows!**_

_**Thanks so much, everyone! Until next time.**_

_**~Grace3**_


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